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I do a little dance every time an new thread OP gets posted without an itch. Praise the Sun-Birther!

>>6309570

### The sealed verses ###


>ARCHIVES:

>First Thread:

https://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive/2024/6012263/

>Second Thread:

https://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive/2024/6049645/

>Third Thread:

https://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive/2024/6098808/

>Fourth Thread:

https://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive/2025/6154957/

>Fifth Thread:

https://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive/2025/6198478/

>Sixth Thread:

https://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive/2025/6240838/

Thanks everyone for all the votes! Will we get every thread gilded? Make my mom proud and do your part, anon!

>Voting Link:

https://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive.html?tags=sunseeker

>>6309572

### A post a day keeps the Seven at bay ###


Update schedule: usually one updateevery 24-48 hours.
Also, I’m trying a new thing: I’ll announce in the /qst/general if I am ‘live’ during posting, which means I should be able to write sooner and more extensibly. I probably won’t be able to do it every day, but it’s an interesting experiment to run. Let me know what you think!

>are you ‘live’ now?

Yes, I will be ‘live’ for 3 hours starting when the OP drops

>will it always be 3 hours?

Ansàrra willing… I’ll let you know post by post, usually in the general and in the spoilered text at the end of each new update

>questing live on twitch when?

not a thing unless…

Moving on, for each update you can expect between two and four posts depending on narrative pace and player interaction. I will do my best to reply to questions and suggestions!

Notice: new players, please feel encouraged to interact and play! I promptly made the summaries you see attached to these posts just for you.
The more the merrier the marred, as they say in the Night Lands…

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>>6309573

### The lay of the land ###


Rules Recap:

We vote by majority to decide actions. In rare cases, if a tie happens I may incorporate both options if narratively possible or interesting. This does NOT happen for combat rolls.

Usually, options are highlighted in red, blue, green (with no special meaning for the colours, I just think they are neat), and there is almost always an invitation, in bold, to add suggestions and discussion. Discussions and questions are highly encouraged as they may give you numerical bonuses or allow you to skip dangerous situations!

We (generally) use a Best of Six 1d100 roll against a DC, plus bonuses.

>natural 1 is a critical failure, natural 100 is a complete success.

>crits in the same roll cancel each other

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>>6309575

### Dubs and Trips and Crits ###


Roll vs DC for most checks. You might need to win more than once.

Combat roll is (generally) Bo6, comparing rolls in succession (my first roll vs your first roll, etc.) and counting successes against my rolls (usually you need to beat only 1 or 2 of my rolls)

If you or I get dubs, trips or more on the rolling post we add the following values/effects to what was just rolled and only that:

>dubs: +18
>trips: automatic critical success
>quads: permanent bonus + kiss on the cheek

Once you got quints and you gained a nice permanent bonus.
these rules apply to my rolls as well but only to the first one (as I use a single post for my rolls)

>Write-Ins:

there will be the occasional prompt for these. Interesting ideas or suggestions may be incorporated in the update even if they don’t reach a majority.Discussions and questions are highly encouraged as they may give you numerical bonuses or allow you to skip dangerous situations!

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>>6309577

posts Willow: it's on a 7s dub. pottery...

# # # Lore! And Stats # # #

Pasta?

Pasta!

>Lore and Important Characters:

https://pastebin.com/By6W3xxD

(you will find yours and other character's bonuses here in this file):

>MC and stats (updated!)

https://pastebin.com/CuxGS43X

# # # # # #

And now, the news…

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>>6309578

# # # Silver Knight Quest Thread VII # # #


Your own blood used to taste differently.
…maybe.
When was the last time you tasted it…?
You are laying on the grass.
Your eyelids flutter against the sunlight, but you can only see dappled smears of colour.
Hear heavy footfalls. Coming closer.
When was it that…
Ah, yes.

Three years ago. You were still thirteen, you were racing your brothers on the dry earth of the vineyards behind your household. A promising harvest. The last.
The sweet scent of the grapes, the dry earth…
Then you stumbled on your feet and bit your tongue.
The shame stung fiercer than the pain, and more bitter than the iron-like liquid pooling in your mouth.
Your brothers had pulled you up, your mother scolded you, your father took care of your tongue…
To think a day so full of bodily pain could taste so sweet now, so compelling.

“Hnnh…” you gurgle, sputtering. Your head pounds.

[cont.]

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>>6309580
Your… what’s the thing in the middle of your chest? Beastbone? Whatever it is, it hurts.
You are holding something in your right hand. It’s—metal.
Memories crawl up from the abyss, like bubbles from a fresh batch of red wine.
You are sixteen.
Master’s disciple.
His first one in so many many years.
That’s what you are—more than a girl and yet not a woman in the recount of your people.
Any chance of marriage and a normal, decent life have been ripped away from you by your wine’s cultivar falling out of fashion; by the blight; by the smirking merchants of Frigéia, purchasing your ruined vineyards for a handful of silver.
That only lasted so far as the Landing Strip.

Your family is waiting for you to save them.

[cont.]

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Rolled 97, 72, 17, 95 + 10 = 291 (4d100 + 10)

>>6309581

Will you disappoint Master, too?
Those thunderous footsteps boom ever closer now.
Something growls.
You grip your hand against the metal as fear thickens around your heart, but your burning anger rises like a fissure through it.

No. No. No. You won’t fall again. You won’t cry again.
You grip the axe’s handle even tighter.
Yes. Your axe.
Just another day of Master’s gruesome training.
Lucky you.
You open your eyes.

Laying on the ground, the hyena-thing hunches over you like a monstrous tree. So close its shadow lingers over your gambeson, its growl crawling up your aching back, your shuddering breastbone. Its black lips curl into a grin, glistening with saliva, the stench like wet fur that curls in your stomach.
The cut over his knee where your axe bit black into its flesh seems but a scratch.
It raises one of its claws and it covers the burning globe of the Sun—of Her sun, you correct yourself.
Who knows if Ansàrra is watching you, even now.

Or ever.

You roll on the grass away from his strike, which only cuts grass and dirt. You stumble upright, axe in your hand, blue eyes trained on your foe, silver hair sticky with sweat, your mouth stained crimson.
You lick a droplet of blood.
On second thought, it tastes just the same.
You raise your axe and rush ahead to strike.

# # # # # #

>Combat Roll: roll a 1d100+4, best of FOUR against my rolls in this post.
>Beat at least TWO of my rolls.
>Dubs, trips, etc apply
>You can't use banked rolls or the cameo bonus (this is a scene set in the past)

welcome back, anon! creating a new thread ALWAYS sends my blood pressure into the two hundreds, but I'm glad this time it went mostly without an itch. Remember we will be LIVE for about three hours, so please feel free to comment, roll and generally praise Ansàrra. Or the Stilladìa, if you are feeling spicy. Thanks for playing and I will see you... well actually I will be seeing you right now.

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>>6309584

>Will you disappoint Master, too?

uh...

Rolled 86 + 4 (1d100 + 4)

>>6309584
WE ARE SO BACK! Amazing recap images qm, great to introduce new players or remind old ones.
>You can't use banked rolls or the cameo bonus (this is a scene set in the past)
Glad to know master was as diligent as ever with Argia's training (like that time they sparred with blindglass poleaxe..)
Well time to reminisce about our successes! or the tragic extent of Argia's failings..
>>6309585
I believe in the power of our loaded dice to beat even the past! (Starless Night what do they feed these hyenas...)

Rolled 60 + 4 (1d100 + 4)

>>6309584

>>6309591
>>6309592

good rolls! though it seems they won't be enough...

>amazing recap images

thanks, I wrangled my autism until it started being useful

>sparred with blindglass poleaxe

Master has faith in your skills!

>spoiler

who knows... there might be room for even bigger failings this thread!

>what do they feed these hyenas

you should ask the Kiengiri but probably something... crunchy.

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Rolled 26 + 4 (1d100 + 4)

>>6309584

>>6309622

nice pic and nice dubs anon!

>26+4+18

with a total roll of 58, anon gains your first roll victory. but will you be able to best my roll of 95?

Ansàrra willing...

Rolled 23 + 4 (1d100 + 4)

>>6309584

>>6309624
a valiant effort

my rolls:
107,82,27,105
vs
90,64,58,27
your rolls

you manage to sneak one victory, but sadly it's not enough. It's enough for me to write though...

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>>6309584

You have been training under Master for a few months now.
When you dash at the beast, blood is pumping in your veins, your heart gripping your throat. Each step on the grass echoes up to your spine. Your slender vintner arms have thickened with muscle. Your sinews are stronger, your reflexes much sharper.
And you have learned the sheer joy of slaying—you sharpen your blade at the heat of your anger.
May it be one day the skull you’ll be splitting with your axe will it be that of the Stilladìa.

Master told you everything about that wretch.

But now—for now it’s this whoreson of a misshapen hyena you must fight.
Its claw swings down below, you skip to the right.
It misses.
You skip again, it’s a feint, like Master taught you.
You raise your weapon, aiming for the thing’s groin. Lots of blood to spill, there.

To think you used to wonder which grapes were the most ripe, just a few years ago.

“Raaah!” You shriek, a shrill banner of your anger and skill, and you swing with all the might you can put behind the strike, right against the thing’s reeking thigh.
The axe bites onto its fur, it cleaves through its hide—
It stops an inch inside.
Starless Night, you think.
Just in time to try and pry the axe off the thing’s skin, but it’s too thick, you won’t—
You raise your other arm in a vain attempt to cover yourself. Its claw reaches for your arm and it pries you off your weapon, which sticks out of its flesh like an afterthought.
The part of you that can still think curses the Kiengir meat-mages that molded this thing out of black knowledge in forgotten dark years. It lifts you until your are level with its muzzle.
“Ah—” you gasp, regretting it when the hyena-thing’s stench fills your nose, burning. It opens its jaws, wide. It ekes out a laughter, that horrible haw-haw-haw you have heard through the nights while you and Master stalked its den.
Your right hand is free, though.
You reach for your belt.
Your hand coils around the hidden knife there.
And you plunge it deep into its throat.

[cont.]

>>6309697

The hyena feels it this time, stumbling back, swinging you around like a puppet—if this was one of those puppet shows you love so much, would you survive? Would Ansàrra save you at the last moment?—your arm aches even more and—
Then—
With a -pop- something gets pulled off its socket.
“Ahhh!” You shout. “Aaah… Ahh!” Your left shoulder is bent at a too-sharp angle.
Like that time you fell off the roof, like…
… your brothers were there though…
The hyena snarls, sputtering blood.
Good.
Filthy thing.
If you have to die, at least you…
No.
Fear pierces you like an icy arrow.
You do -not- want to die.
It’s not your time yet!
You—
The thing’s jaws close around your head.
You shut your eyes, and something heavy whooshes right over you, like a bird speeding by on its way to the horizon.
A sound like a distant bell toll echoes through the air and your body, and you dare open your eyes.
Someone is holding you. The claws that held you in thrall fall open and the hyena collapses on its knees, then forward, right besides Master Ibardo Delebasse. In his left arm: you. In his right hand: the vibrating black-glass weapon that’s even older than the monster it just dispatched.
The hyena’s head is nowhere to be seen. All that remains above its neck a shattered crater bursting black blood, smoking up in banners.
“I hope,” he says with a smile as he pops your shoulder back in. You shudder against his chest, panting heavily. Your axe still sticks out of the hyena’s thigh. “You have learned your lesson.”
You are not really sure there was any lesson in this.
Just a lot of fear.
And another failure to add to your impressive record.
Nothing to learn.
You bite your lip and try not to cry, even as that same scent of sweet grapes and dry heart wafts around you. Master’s hand pulsates against your shoulder and the pain subsides, healed by the mighty of Ansàrra.
Tears run big and hot down your cheeks.
“I’m sorry,” you heave, your chest moving up and down. “I’m sorry.”
Master runs his fingers through your silvery hair.
Why he sticks with you—that’s the biggest mystery of them all.

[cont.]

>>6309698


Hours later, you two are sitting by the fire.
Master is usually against lighting one at evening.
It might attract attention.
But the hyena is dead—quite impressively so, with its head bursted like a pumpkin cooked under the summer Sun…
…Her summer sun, you remind yourself.
Ansàrra’s blessing running through your shoulder and you forget to hallow Her name.
A failure.
You deserve your cursed hair.
Pulling tighter the hood that covers your mane, you dare look at the sky.
There had been a time when you used to look at the stars, at their uneven dance, and at the glowing silver arc that cleaves the night. Or the day.
The planetary ring never leaves.
You used to like it.Your father used to say that you inherited its shade in your hair, and you would live a lucky life.
He was wrong about a great many things.
Now the ring reminds you of the Stilladìa.
Master has explained many times that the Adversary is quite beyond the strength of all the Powers put together. Even all the Echorists from your homeland, all the Great Houses and their armies, would amount to nothing but dust in the wind before the reach of the Stilladìa.
Besides, half of them are already on her pay book.
More than half, you’d bet.
You blink and go back to the feelings of your body.
Besides the burning shame in your belly, hotter than the flames crackling before you, you feel fine.
You feel fine because a certain Someone, in Madua, is bleeding for you, now.
How much did it hurt when Ansàrra took upon Herself your wounded shoulder?
Did She even feel it amidst all the plagues She has to endure for the good of Her people?
And you can’t even remember to name Her sun after Her…
“What was the lesson?” You try, unmooring the thought that has been gnawing at your for hours.


[cont.]

>>6309699


Master lifts his eyes from the flames. They are grey—ironic—but they seem to glint gold in the fire.
“What do you think it was?” He replies, running his hand through his short beard.
You hate it when he acts all mysterious and mystic-like.
You have been trained as a vintner! You are certainly not a philopho-phyloso—
Your brain is not made for thinking, Starless Night!
“I don’t know,” you shake your head, frustrated. A lock of silver falls against your neck and you tuck it back into place. You are getting closer to Maduan borders and if any faithful were to see your hair…
Another great irony, how much you trying to hold onto a faith that thinks you the emblem of its greatest enemy.
Your greatest enemy.
Perhaps there’s something to build upon there…
“I don’t know, really,” you repeat, rising your voice just a bit.
He is certainly a madman and a meddler, but you wouldn’t disrespect him, when he went out of his way to protect your brother from the filth in the Landing Strip, take you under his tutelage and give you a chance to save your family for good.
Even if becoming a Knight of Ansàrra feels like an impossible dream. You might as well jump over the planetary ring…
“Good,” he replies, the tired chord of your frustration twinging yet again.
No.
You have to master your emotions. One of his first teachings.
A Knight is honourable. And has her dignity.
“I still don’t understand, Master,” you say, opening your arms. “I don’t get any of this.” You groan, leaning back against the trunk that will be your haphazard bed tonight. After spending two cycles sleeping on live rock because Master thought you’d need to go on a hike with him, it’s almost as comfortable as being back home in Candéa…
“Do you believe,” he adds, with that kind tone that you hate to hear, because it shows how much he cares about you, about your wretched hide that can’t even hold an axe properly, “that you are to blame for today’s defeat?”
What kind of question is that?Your ice-blue eyes burn with anger.
“Yes,” you hiss. “Of course! That’s—”
“You faced the battle all by yourself,” he interrupts you, using the dull end of his weapon to shift the firewood. “That was your mistake, Argia.”

>>6309700

You blink, confused.
“A Knight… has to be proud of the strength of her arm.”
“Indeed. But you are no errand blade-for-hire in the Thronelands, nor a bodyguard earning dime and dine. You are trying to become a Knight of Ansàrra. This means that the strength of your arm is inconsequential.”
“Master—” you blink. “I still…”
“I have taught you the meaning of the Sun-Birther name.”
Yes.
The first word in Kiengir language you ever learned.
Still the only one, though.
“‘All that there is’,” you reply.
Comprehension dawns inside you.
Your lips purse in surprise.

Oh.

“But… Master. How do I know the Sun-Birther will be there with me when the time comes?”
“You do not.”
“How—how do I know She will give me strength?”
“You do not. I do not either,” he chuckles. “That is what makes this so nonsensical and so terrible. And so wondrous. A mountain could sit on a stalk of grass and it wouldn’t bend, if so were the will of the Sun-Birther.”
There had been a time when you used to think of Ansàrra as something that involved others. She was the goddess of the Maduans, after all.
Coming into Her service, for foreigners… it could happen, but—
“I am not sure I can hold much faith in me,” you counter, drawing your knees closer to your chest. “I am weak. I am slow. If I were an Elf like Saint Kishirra maybe…”

Master gives you another of his look. This time it seems like the golden glint it’s not just a play of the firelight.
“Kishirra is a beloved figure,” he concedes, then reaches for something inside his pocket. “It is my honour and duty to carry her weapon after all these centuries. And while she burned bright, her fire did not last long. I wouldn’t say she can be of much inspiration to you.”
You shake your head.
Certainly not.

The Elf had been so strong. So beautiful, even. Someone like her could be chosen by Ansàrra. Could make a difference, could save those she cared for…
“But there is another.”



[cont.]

>>6309702

“Hm?”
“A Saint just like Kishirra, but besides that, she couldn’t have been more different,” he muses. “She started out just like you: nothing more than a girl, roused to great deeds, yet as fragile as silence inside a Temple of Flame.”
You think you have—
Heard that name…

“Bragia Lacresta?”

“Correct,” he laughs, and shows you what he’d been producing from his pocket.
It’s a tiny white thing.
One of those carved medallions. One of your aunts used to have one.
You think it’s called a cameo.

He gives it over to you across the fire, pouring the steel necklace it hangs from onto your hand. The features of the figurine etched onto its surface look to the side, with a faint smile in a youthful face.
She holds a pointed mace in her right hand.
Didn’t Saint Bragia use an axe…?
“She was not alone,” Master adds. “This is not an afterthought. She had true companions, who stayed by her side until the end.”
“The end?”
“She was murdered by the Adversary.”

Something inside you jolts.
The faint smile seems even more precious now.
“Why? What did she do? Why her? She looks like she would have been lovely.”
“Everyone who met her was charmed. One could say perhaps Ansàrra was among those… Bragia was dearest to her. The Adversary hurt the Sun-Birther where she could cause the most damage.”
“That’s just like merchant filth,” you hiss, closing your hands around the cameo, then stop. It looks fragile, even with the steely band to coil around it.
It must be… old.

“Master… are you showing me this as an inspiration? To say she was just— just like me?”
“Well, perhaps not just like you. She used to have brown hair. And olive green eyes, so not at all like you are right now,” he laughs. “But she was in the same situation. And she certainly wasn’t an Elf.”
You look at the cameo—it seems to pulsate with a hidden heat against your skin. Like if it recognized you.
“Also, I am not showing you anything. This is a gift.”
“W-What? Master, you can’t! This must be precious! And expensive, who knows where you even got something so pretty!”
“That does not matter,” he shrugs. “What matters is what you will do with it. This was the perfect time to show it to you.” A fond smile spreads over his features. “No wonder…”
“B-But… for me?”
“For you.”

You don’t know what to say.
You seldom do.
Even when you used to live with your family, words had always failed you. That’s why you always preferred to race with your brothers, or to sit by the boys or play with them, rather than gossiping with girls your age—they only said mean things anyway!—and when you became the subject of that gossip, you stopped trying for good.
“Thank you,” you breathe.


[cont.]

'she's just like me FR FR' t. Argia Candente

>>6309704


That’s it.
That must be enough.
“It’s not me who you must thank,” Master reminds you. “But no reproach at this hour. It has been a long day and there will be many more like it ahead.”
“I know,” you sigh, holding the cameo closer to your chest.
“A Knight is brave and dutiful,” he agrees.
“Aye.” For the first time in many days a tentative smile pulls at your lips, shared with Master.
He nods in your direction.
“You are made of sterner stuff than the soft wood of vineyards, Argia Candente,” he adds, once again moving the firewood with his weapon. “You will find out soon enough.”
“I pray you are right, Master.”
You pull our blanket closer to your tired body and slowly close your eyes, the cameo—Master’s precious gift!—held against your chest. You still do not dare to put the chain around your neck…. perhaps after tomorrow’s morning prayers…
“Argia?”
“Master?”
“If you do not let go, She will not let go.”
You hesitate. A knot tightens in your throat.
“I—I’ll try.”
“Nothing else is required of us,” he adds with a satisfied chuckle.
You nod again, the cameo against your breastbone.
It does not hurt any more, either.
You try to picture Saint Bragia in your mind. Young, beautiful and full of hope… a simple girl, with all the weakness in the world.
Inconsequential.
Before Ansàrra, all strength fails.
Even that of the Adversary.



[cont.]

>>6309705

—and you hold onto the cameo, you slip it around your neck, the very next day—

—and when you plunge your sword deep into the belly of the Ubaiid, the snake-man folding like a piece of paper before you, you shout Ansàrra’s name—

—Master lauding your form when you finally understand how to properly use the Stance of the Lion, and the cameo seems to hum with pride—

—your first Sanction, rushing through you, that ivory circlet burning against your naked skin—

—she was there, she was just as afraid as you were, but Bragia held on, held on, held on—

—you hold onto the cameo when Master departs, leaving you with the others. You do not like the way the black-haired girl, this Rubida, looks at you or at your hair. You do now know what to think of the tall girl with the braid. Perhaps the brunette will want to be your friend…—

—you cry and heave alone the morning Soralisa pretends like she doesn’t recognize you anymore. You are alone and you hate this, but your family over there in the Landing Strip must hate hunger and illness even more, so you will bear it, no matter what—

—the cameo’s hum your only comfort when you reach out to Ansàrra and Her blessed light, soft and scented like grapes and dry earth, when you try to fall asleep, away from the group—

—Starless Night, this mission seems crazy to you, why did they sent you and your Manipolo to hunt cultists of the Seven is truly baffling. Carnaval would be a better choice, but you keep your mouth shut and hold on to the trust in your heart—

—you jump onto Soralisa, holding her and attempting to let the Sanction discharge without killing her. Please, please Sun-Birther, if there is ever one thing you asked of Her—

—you show it to Astoria, and the sudden curiosity she displays does not sit with you very well—

—you brandish the cameo when you face the half-dead face of one of the Seven—

—it feels comforting on your chest when you sit with the others watching the puppet show—

—when you explain to Rubida why you have stopped drinking wine—

—and so hot when Willow kisses you—

—and it guides you across the glass desert—

—and it is the only thing that’s still with you when Willow betrays the group—

—it’s with you when you make up with Rubida and when you face Rosandra, it is with you all the time, every time, Saint Bragia is with you—

—if you hold on—

…and now it swirls and turns on itself like a crazed top, spinning on the floor of your cell in Rasena, inside the very heart of Madua.

You are nineteen years old.

[cont.]

seriously WTF even is this update, 4032 words I was supposed to stop two hours ago someone pls shot the Muse it's her fault Mom pick me up I'm scared

>>6309706

One of your hand is reduced to an oozing pulp.
The heavens above are cold and empty.
You sit in the darkness.
Some of the only light the tiny shards of Carnaval’s feather, embers dying their slow death.
And the crimson glow of the eyes of the Stilladìa.

She sits across you—just like that night with Master when you received the cameo, your back is against something that helps to keep you upright.
This thing, the Adversary, the enemy of Ansàrra, the source of all your troubles—has made sure you could look her square in the eyes while you discuss.
She had wanted you restored to dignity.
You remember Astoria in the Amaranthines chamber, just a few days ago, oozing triumph at your battered state.

The Stilladìa does not speak.
She looks at you in silence, her pale face bathed in the glare of her pupils. The thousands and thousands of stars glisten between her curved horns, but their cold light seems subdued, muted.

She looks so much like her depiction on the cameo—spinning, spinning, spinning between your bandages-covered body and her naked one.

The same curve of the chin, the same small and elegant nose, the same platinum lips. And yet there is a hint of something else, a violent beauty in her body that reminds you of the aggressive perfection in the Sister who was trying to reincarnate herself in the Well.

Willow was there.

Willow is gone now.

You blink.

You were discussing something.
Ah, yes.
“Thinking with my own head,” you mutter.
You already explained Master you are no good at this sort of thing…

Perhaps, if you move very fast, you could just dash ahead and claps your good hand around that slender, white neck and squeeze it until those stupid red eyes pop out of her skull.

Perhaps.

You hit her square in the chest with Carnaval’s feather, covering her in the angel’s blood that’s known as the only substance capable of harming this merchant wretch, and there she is.

Even in the dim crimson light you can clearly see her skin softening, forgetting all about the open crater you burst inside her just moments ago.

Six hundred years. She’s been at this for six hundred years.
How long have you been alive again?

Your blue gaze shifts towards the spinning cameo.
Didn’t she have a proposal?

[cont.]

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>>6309707

That’s madness but—

It’s funny. Back when Master gave you her cameo—Saint Bragia’s cameo, made by her own hands—you were afraid of dying.

Now you are afraid you won’t be able to save your friends. All of them, even those deserving a nice good spanking, like Willow.
And your family.
And seeing Master again.
And thanking Carnaval for her help.
And even that heathen Sandora.

But—

You were thinking about…
Right.
Right.
Time to think.

You open your mouth and only breath comes out.

None comes from the Stilladìa in front of you.
It’s a strange thought, but—
—this is actually the Saint you spent so much time with.
You were—

“I was jealous,” you confess.

The crimson-eyed face in front of you raises one white eyebrow.

“Of you. Of how much Ansàrra seemed to care for you.”

The Stilladìa grins—but halfway through it deflates into a sheepish smile that turns into a bitter sneer.

“You surely seem to grow jealous over the funniest occurrences, Argia Candente. You are a most peculiar one.”

“You are one to speak. Merchant filth. You abandoned Her embrace for what?”

“A chance to give human beings the liberty denied to them—under Kiengir rule, and under Ansàrra’s dominion. When a Frigèian mother is in trouble, she calls for a physician, not for a priest.”

“And what good does that—”

“We are free,” Lithala of the Night Lands whispers, rolling the words between her lips like a kiss. “To stand or to die on our own terms. For a whipped dog it might be blasphemy, for the wolf running in the steppes it is the source of its dignity.” She rears her head back. “Ansàrra offers you everything a human animal might desire: food and comfort and safety, and all she asks in turn is you lay down everything that makes you more than a chained beast.”

“I just want to save my family. I don’t care about anything else.”

The smile comes back.
You might have made a misstep.
Big surprise.
You can’t string two words together and here is someone who has been collecting souls like marbles for more than half a millennium.

[cont.]

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>>6309708

You would raise your eyes to the heavens and ask Ansàrra for support, but feeling the sky as empty and uncaring as it is now makes you feel a chill down to your very soul.
So you do not.

“The transactional nature of your faith is plain,” The Stilladìa recounts. “You are but one of many. The difference between that and what I do is just a signature on a binding contract.”

“You can shove your contracts—”

“Thank you,” she claps her head, producing a sharp sound of not-quite skin that makes you jolt. “But there are almost forty thousand souls listening to his conversation, and I would not have their ears dirtied.”

“How considerate,” you chuckle.

The tension between you two raises, then, like a mounting tide, it passes past you, and you deflate again, all wind out of your sail.

Amidst the trough, you wait for her to say something, but she does not.

Think with your own head.

This is still Bragia Lacresta sitting across to you.

You loathe the tiny excited jump your stomach makes upon the notion.
You may not feel ready to either listen to her or to ask her to leave you alone.
Also, she did care for your hand over the past few days.
You might have lost it for good without her.

But maybe, just maybe… if Ansàrra is not listening right now…

You open your mouth again, and this time, it’s to give voice to a question.
Your family. The Frigéian merchants that ruined all of you. Doesn’t she feel even a bit of remorse?

The difference with Bragia of old is… uncanny. Why did her body change so much? Is she even alive?

She called your faith transactional but… what does Ansàrra gain out of everything that happened? You truly can’t see it…

You also have another question for the merchant filth (write-in/suggestion; I mean, i's a once-in-several-lifetimes chance)


well that grew far beyond what I had planned. Five thousand words of pure update plus everything else plus the summaries. Scratch Ansàrra, scratch the Stilladìa, I have given my soul to /qst/. And what’s worst is that it feels so good being back. Thanks for playing… I’ll look forward to your votes tomorrow.

>>6309712
>Your family. The Frigéian merchants that ruined all of you. Doesn’t she feel even a bit of remorse?
A most glorious reintroduction, QM. Welcome back!

>>6309712
>The difference with Bragia of old is… uncanny. Why did her body change so much? Is she even alive?
First option is a trap, I'd say. They had the freedom to be bastards, so they did.

>>6309738
Whether she personally feels remorse could inform how much we trust the Bragia that lives inside the Stilladia, no?

>>6309712
>“But there are almost forty thousand souls listening to his conversation, and I would not have their ears dirtied.”
Interesting, I was wondering if those souls Stilladìa collects are even aware of what is going on when they aren't being called to shave off a few minutes of their contracts.
>You also have another question for the merchant filth (write-in/suggestion; I mean, i's a once-in-several-lifetimes chance)

>as you stare at your spinningcameo you recall something, before this whole thing escalated into you stabbing it's owner's heart..she said that you were merely the "courier”. Is this accursed patron of bartering really suggesting that your purpose this entire time was for you to somehow bridge the gap between Ansàrra and her wayward "daughter"? Is that why Ansàrra left you? Because your part in this was merely to return this cameo back to it's true owner?
If we want any hope of finding out what is going on with Argia not being able to call for sanctions, then the ancap devil is our current best bet for answers, especially about why did she apparently "abandoned" Argia, she is the closest to Ansàrra's heart after all.

>>6309738
I don't think the first option is a trap per say, it's there to give Argia some sort of closure regarding her many many feelings regarding her discovery about her idol being her enemy and the indirect cause of nearly all her problems, same for option 2, they serve to help Argia to better understand Bragia.
option 3 is a coin toss between the Stilladìa getting to the point or turn it around by convincing Argia over how her way of life is the true freedom (fair enough, but that's not exactly what Argia is concerned about) and the bonus plans of a contract with her.
>>6309741
>Whether she personally feels remorse could inform how much we trust the Bragia that lives inside the Stilladia, no?
Eh, we can trust the Stilladia to hate the seven as much as Argia does AND to stop the worm.
whatever she cares or feels pity for Argia's plight is secondary right now, those questions sidetrack Argia of her real objective which is stopping the worm and saving willow or spanking her corpse if all else fails...
That's why I'm suggesting opening a branch of question to see if the Stilladia has any idea about what is Ansàrra's endgame regarding Argia herself.

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>>6309712
>She called your faith transactional but… what does Ansàrra gain out of everything that happened? You truly can’t see it…

>>6309712
>You also have another question for the merchant filth (write-in/suggestion; I mean, i's a once-in-several-lifetimes chance)
Stay silent, Say nothing. Giving her an opening to build rapport simply because she helped us is exactly why she has so many souls. We need nothing of her, and want for less. All we need to do is delay until Willow or the others to turn back up, She can't take forever we're soon to be executed anyway.

Besides we have ~80% the answers already, or can intuit them by inspection easily.
>Your family.
No Contract with her, doesn't need to care. Though could become an option for collateral to be pursued as part of future dealings.

>The Frigéian merchants that ruined all of you.
Has more important stuff to be overlooking, and Contracts only go so far as to provide guard rails and oversight. We know she can't be everywhere at once. Nor preside over all actions taken on her behalf or by associates however tenuous.

>Doesn’t she feel even a bit of remorse?
Won't help her get what she wants, unless it does. I'd expect it to be purely performative to build rapport. It's a trap option. And probably reveals too much of an angle into Argia's headspace. It won't undo what has been done, and even if it did what would it cost.

>Why did her body change so much?
Do we need much more of an explanation that Magic "exists" and does some weird shit.

>Is she even alive?
Does she fog a mirror when breathing on it? and Argia's got her answer.

>what does Ansàrra gain out of everything that happened?
Literally this entire interaction and conversation is being held with her by proxy, and a cleaned up "dead end", since ain't no way we're not being executed on the spot if it gets out that this even occurred, now that she has revealed herself. or we even hint at heretical knowledge of the former "St." Bragia.

>You truly can’t see it…
Because it's not for us.

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>>6309741
interesting idea anon

>>6309782
>>6309824

these are intriguing questions

>she is closest to Ansàrra's heart after all

this is a given. if you want to gain some answers, there might be no better time

>we can trust the Stilladìa to hate the Seven

it's kind of personal with them. perhaps a bit less so than with Ansàrra, but the Sisters absolutely enjoy making mayhem.

>to see if the Stilladìa has any idea about what is Ansàrra's endgame regarding Argia herself.

She said something at the end of last thread, which I can sum up as: Argia only served as a means to an end, and as such she will now be discarded.

>>6309995

anon doesn't trust merchant filth.
might be a good call, might be not.

>Until Willow or the others turn back up

keep in mind that Willow is in the Night Lands and most likely won't be back (or at least not on her own...), Rubida and Soralisa lack the power to get you out in any way, unless their plan to contact your Master goes through (which is already a flimsy possibility). And the Stilladìa has shown more than once the ability to still time, so playing mute might not be the best idea...
...but then again you are thinking with your own head, so it might be an improvement.


overall, the funny thing is we have five votes and each of them goes in a different direction (we have one each for the three colored options and two suggestions). This has never happened and I find it delightful.

I'd like to write next update on a majority of at least 3 votes (what can I say I love democracy). So I am extending voting time for about 18 hours from now.

We'll see what happens...

>>6310004
>keep in mind that Willow is in the Night Lands and most likely won't be back
Argia can rely on her "friends", to at least try to help her out. No contract needed.

>(or at least not on her own...)
Who doesn't "need" godly intervention from time to time, at least its not a Blatantly unfair contract. and is with those that do demonstrably have said powers within their grasp to solve, for a favor sure. But that doesn't me we can't "fix" things post-facto.

>Rubida and Soralisa lack the power to get you out in any way
Doesn't matter they are more than sufficiently driven to investigate the slightest of opportunities, and call in favors, or represent us far better than we could ourselves. We can find ourselves in no better hands than those of our friends.

>which is already a flimsy possibility
Carnaval is a wildcard here, giving her a reason to go looking for an out was a bad idea if things were to proceed uneventfully.

>The Stilladìa has shown more than once the ability to still time
And I doubt she can do it entirely for free, If she could why does she need contracts with combatants? It shouldn't be that hard to just slit a throat, or yeet an energy source into a wall or steal stuff, while outside other's perception.

And as such exceeding her allotted budget shouldn't take too much, Argia's soul isn't "worth" much to her plans anyway, so making it an unfavorable trade in terms of expenditure should be fairly simple to do.

>so playing mute might not be the best idea
Openly hostile actions will very much change the tack of the conversation, revealing what she is actually is here for. And give us a reason to stick Feather in eye socket.


>but then again you are thinking with your own head
Everything to avoid being offered a contract. We don't need her help to fix our problems. We just need an opportunity to set things right.

>>6309712
>The difference with Bragia of old is… uncanny. Why did her body change so much? Is she even alive?

>>6309712
>The difference with Bragia of old is… uncanny. Why did her body change so much? Is she even alive?

>>6309570
Fuck, I didn't see this thread until ~2 hours ago. It's good to see you back, OP.
>>6309584
damn, those are high rolls
>>6309640
>you manage to sneak one victory, but sadly it's not enough. It's enough for me to write though...
so, after reading the update was the roll just to see how we fared against the hyena ?
>>6309712
>The difference with Bragia of old is… uncanny. Why did her body change so much? Is she even alive?
the only question I see doing something good for us

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>>6310019
>>6310087
>>6310401

thanks for breaking the tie

>it's good to see you back, OP

thanks anon! glad to see you here again!

>the roll just to see how we fared against the hyena

yes, it was a combat roll

alright, tie is broken, so I should be able to write an update in a couple hours. I'm out tonight so I won't be able to stay live, I'll keep you updated when we drop the new posts.

If someone wants to add suggestions I'll keep the window open for the next 120 minutes starting from this post's timestamp.

see you soon!

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>>6309712

The difference with Bragia of old is… uncanny. Why did her body change so much? Is she even alive?

# # # # # # #

As you open your mouth, your eyes roam over her figure. A part of you, a part that screams in your head—stay silent, stay still, share no words with the Adversary—pushes you to just wait for this to end… but there is no way to know when this might end.
With every beat of your heart you slide closer and closer to the Trial. To the molten gold pouring over your body, eating through your flesh, branding you as an enemy.
You shudder amidst the void that seeps from the empty heavens. There is no light coming there to meet your prayers, there has not been for the past… how many days?
Seven?

Eight.

It’s been eight days—another delightful irony that the Stilladìa shows up right now. Eight is her number after all, just like six is the one sacred to Ansàrra.
If you were still a vintner girl you might ascribe this to a coincidence.
But you know better. So you take in Bragia Lacresta’s form.
She has the same slender physique you remember from Ansàrra’s visions. Which the Stilladìa just proved once again they were true.
But her skin is now alabaster-white, and crossed by tiny cracks from which oozes a faint brightness that makes your eyes water.
Reminds you of a cracking egg, about to burst.

You did crack her, alright. With Carnaval’s feather, to reveal the insides of her body, those black strings, slithering ropes, knitting themselves back together.
Her skin is almost back to perfection now. Snow-white, with only the faintest roughness from where you cratered her flesh.
Whatever she is now, she is certainly not human anymore.

“What happened to you?”

[cont.]

>>6310619

Her crimson eyes go wide. Her glowing pupils flash with surprise.
The grinning Adversary, the triumphant collector of souls wanes for a moment, like a cloud coming to cover Her sun; leaving her to drag her knees closer to herself, coiling a long strand of white hair around her black-nailed finger.

“Many things. Ansàrra’s disregard, for once. And the care of one of the Seven, the least of them, who has forever departed this world. Ah, this is a bit surprising. Not the kind of question I am used to hearing,” she muses. “Especially not from a puppet dancing on Ansàrra’s strings.”
“I like puppets,” you say. You seem to recall saying something like that just a few minutes ago. It’s hard to remember. The presence in front of you seems to absorb every thought.
You still have a hard time believing it’s her. The same girl who inspired you to never give up. The foundling, taken in by Ansàrra just like Master found you and trained you.
The lonely girl who grew up to have a tight group of friends.

Betrayed…

It’s like an ice knife scouring your heart, every time you think about that moment, when you set your foot on the shore, and the Sun-Birther disappeared.
What did you do wrong?
Maybe nothing, and that’s a thought that opens a gnawing abyss right where your stomach should be…

“Have my strings been cut now?” You wonder. It’s a whisper, and only when the Stilladìa tilts her head to regard your question you realize you have spoken out loud.
Of all the times when you could speak without a care… Rubida would be so angry at you if she were here.

“That is a question I am used to,” she chuckles. “I often seek out those who desire their chains broken. I have felt your friend’s burning desire, cycles ago. Before you visited the Temple.”

Oh.

“Wait. You--how much do you know about Willow?”

[cont.]

>>6310620

“More than enough to make me squirm with haste. I wouldn’t be here otherwise, Argia Candente.” She draws in air, and it’s almost a breath, but she does not breathe out. Her body certainly looks human, but it’s almost doll-like… a living statue, a simulacrum. “You are aware of the Worm. You must have heard about it… seen its story in the Temple, didn’t you?”

You nod.

Back when you thought this would be solved by a pair of magic shackles, by picking up a melting Asterite and securing it to justice. Then you could forget all about it and earn safety for your family.
No matter your soul.
“B-But you stopped it once already, didn’t you?!”

Ah— your voice. Your cheeks frolic with heat at the excited tone that slipped out of your mouth.
It’s hard to keep your devotion, admiration, for Bragia Lacresta from your disgust for the Adversary. That they are one and the same still makes your heart tighten with confusion.
The Stilladìa nods, her gaze wandering beyond you.

“Yes, but that was under different circumstances.”

“You were still…” faithful? What might the right word be? Good? Decent?

“… a fool,” Lithala provides with a sneer. You blink at the venom in her voice, whenever she speaks of her former self. Unlike the burst from Carnaval’s feather, this is a wound that has never healed.
Was the Sun-Birther attempting to leverage it?

But… Ansàrra wouldn’t do anything like that!

You have felt Her warmth, Her compassion, Her strength. She wouldn’t do something like that! Not to someone She used to love like a daughter…
… would She?

“And perhaps you have felt how dire these new circumstances are,” she continues, worry slithering inside her voice like a black snake darting through clear waters. To think someone like the Adversary can feel worry! You thought she could feel nothing else but evil mirth and satisfaction from her faithless acts.

Such as murdering Saint Bragia.

But Bragia is here before you, and you do not know what to think anymore.
Think with your own head.
Yes, but what should you think?
“Last time, the Worm used Uxoria as a vessel. Mighty as she might have been, she was still just a woman. A native woman. Your friend is a Strander.”

[cont.]

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>>6310623

“Does it make a difference? Willow is not a very… very powerful one. Though she wouldn’t like me to just say so…”
“It makes all the difference—” the Stilladìa opens her hands and two ghostly blue spheres appear, made as if by solid light, or perhaps liquid diamonds. “Imagine this is our world,” she says lifting her left hand, “… and this is Willow’s world.”

“Earth?”

“You may underestimate yourself, but Ansàrra certainly did not, Argia Candente,” the Stilladìa muses, a faint echo of her usual confident grin reappearing.
Just as that prickle over your cheeks reappears.
Saint Bragia praised you! Saint Bragia gave you a compliment!
You try to push the satisfaction blooming in your heart down into the depths of your being. This is the Adversary!

“Earth, yes…” she goes on. “I cannot compress thousands of years of history in a few lines. Besides, my husband is far better at this than I am.”

Husband?

“The Worm is now connected to another world, to the wheel of the cosmos.” A thin blue strand connects the two spheres. “This is the difference between what happened then and what is happening now: the Seven have used Stranders before but never like this. The conduit is fresh, strong and eager—the Sisters haven’t enjoyed such luxury since before their fall! What you must understand is that, when the Kiengiri died, when the Epochalypse happened and Ansàrra destroyed this world’s connection to the wheel, as well as the Old Sun—”

“Wait, what?”

“Not the kind of thing they teach you in a Temple of Flame?” She chuckles. “And yet it is in plain sight: the Sun-Birther. There have been three Suns in the history of our world. The one that’s burning outside, the temporary one Ansàrra lit up using up lost Kiengir arts, and the one she smashed against the planet. Ansàrra never had qualms about breaking what belonged to her. Hah—nothing like a monopoly to stifle competition…”

“You lie.”

[cont.]

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>>6310629

The words jolt out of your lips, feverish, accusatory, as you lower your gaze to the spinning cameo.
It just—
Even after everything that happened, every piece of the puzzle forming this terrible wholeness, this picture that haunts you—Saint Bragia!—it’s too much to accept.
You feel like your head is filled to the brim with heretical notions and…
“That’s a lie. That must be a lie. Her sun cannot die.”
When you raise your eyes again, the Stilladìa’s gaze is stern, burning with an icy anger.

Uh.

“I was a liar’s thrall, once.” Her voice is as thin as a razor and it brushes against your skin like chill winter wind. Your hairs stand on hand. “Therefore, I try not to make the same mistake, Argia Candente. My contracts are simply-read and simply-written. My terms are respected. My trust,” a snarl quivers over her lips, blue at the light of the spheres, “is unbroken. I am a terrible liar, and I always strive to uphold my standards.”

Those words—Candeloro said those to her, during the first vision Ansàrra gave you.
And if Ansàrra sent you that vision, it must be true.
Which means…
The pit in your stomach deepens.
At the idea that Ansàrra Herself gave you the key to make sure the Stilladìa is telling the truth.

“T-The sun…”

“It washed over the Kiengiri and all their works. A flame stronger than you can fathom, stronger than I can imagine, bloomed over their civilization, erasing it in the span of a heartbeat. All of their slaves and most of their monsters, charred to nothing. And then the Old Sun died, and the world was shattered. Our Moon murdered…”

“Willow told me Earth has a Moon,” you blabber, trying to hold on against the onslaught of information, against the Stilladìa’s version of the history of your world.
“A moon has its uses. Helias would be able to explain better…” she sighs. “Something to do with the seasons… you would have to ask him—he gets so excited when he talks about these things I feel bad for not giving him attention, but I get so confused… also, that’s not important right now. What matters is that in a way we still have a moon.” That grin is back again. “It’s just… different.”

Oh.
Oh, no.

[cont.]

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>>6310631

You remember Willow, holding up a hand to shield her eyes at night.
How bright your nights are, compared to those of her world.
And that silvery thing…

“The ring.”

“Correct once again, Argia Candente.”

Your mind reels with revelation after revelation. You feel like you are in free fall.
“Let me adjust—” the spheres floating on her hand change: one develops a thin ring around it, and another a smaller sphere that escorts it.

“Well this is not to scale,” she frowns. “You must imagine them much farther, and…” she blinks. “Oh, this is my husband rubbing off on me again. Nevermind!” She clenches her hands and the spheres disappear. “The one thing you should keep in mind: the Worm is like a wedge keeping a door open. The one good thing about this is that it is still in its infancy. What I will do is to kick that wedge off. If it’s not too late.”

Not too late?

“That is also why I came to you. I wanted to know the extent of Ansàrra’s plan before facing the Seven—and I have fallen into her hand once again.” She clicks her tongue. “Fooled once more, and for the same reasons.”
“Wait. Wait… the Worm is keeping the door open for the Seven, but what about Willow?”

Her crimson eyes smolder.

“The care you show for your friends is endearing, Argia Candente. You admitted being jealous, and it is my turn now. I yearn for friends that would stand by my side, without withering under the weight of years, without falling to dust. But that is my fate. The Seven have robbed me of the joys of a mortal body. Ansàrra has robbed me of holding a child I could call my own. I made my choices and Willow Stark has made her own.”

You remember your very first vision—when Saint Bragia confessed how she wanted six children with Candeloro.
Centuries ago.
But wait… Willow made her choices?

“You won’t kill— you won’t have to kill Willow, will you?”

“The Worm cannot be suffered to live, Argia Candente.” Her lips form a thin hard line. “Everything else is collateral.”

[cont.]

>>6310634

“You can’t—”
“Willow Stark may be your friend,” she shrugs. “She is no friend of mine.”

“Then… then you are just as callous as the Ansàrra you claim to be a monster,” you seethe.

The Stilladìa’s eyes grow wide again, then she laughs, bitter. The echoes linger in the cell.

“There is an Earthen saying about apples and trees. I suppose I can’t go far, no matter how much I try.” She tilts her head, her gaze smoldering through you. “Would I pry off the flower to save the whole pot? Perhaps, if it were about to burn, or to fall under the yoke of Kiengiri reborn. Which brings us back to you, I guess. The Strander’s life is forfeit, and perhaps it would be preferable to thralldom under the Seven. But you still have a choice about your life and your Trial.”

“She—she did it for me! Because she wanted to keep me from giving out my soul to Ansàrra, with… with the ordaining.”

“And now I wonder if her sacrifice ever had any chance of working.”

“It’s not right! She must have a chance at redemption… I—I must reach out to her, she has to listen…” you don’t know what you would say. But Willow has to listen to you. You didn’t have a chance last time, but you know you can save her. You know you can stop this, with… with Ansàrra’s help…

You wince at the void surrounding you. The darkness envelopes your body and silences your soul.

Was everything that happened just because you were supposed to give the cameo back to the Stilladìa? To tug at her stillborn heart with one final pledge to go back home? Just the bearer of news, soon to be discarded?

“If you have a plan it would be high time to give it shape,” the Stilladìa urges you. “Until you are here with me, time is quietly waiting outside the door. But this is only so until you make a decision, or I grow bored. Whichever it may be depends more on you than on myself.”

[cont.]

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>>6310637

“You are a useless sack of filth,” you spew, anger rising once again. Why does it have to be you? After all these… these news, about the Moon, and the sun, and whatever happened, why does it have to be you here with her?

You looked up to Bragia! You loved her like the big sister you always missed.
Someone that could inspire you, and now—now she’s here taunting you with your decisions and your most-likely death. So, why not? Let it all out. You were always better with swords than with words, but blades had proven useless, so how about trying a new thing for once?

Maybe this is thinking with your own head.
The Stilladìa sighs, seemingly growing more bored.
Does she think this would stop you?
Nobody stops.

“My entire family was thrown into poverty because of you! Because of your filthy money-grabbing merchants selling my homestead for a handful of silver coins! You and your mercantile empire should just burn! Burn!” You spit at her and it lands between her legs.

“How many people has your wine killed, Argia Candente?”

What?

You shake your head.

“That—you make no sense. Stop… stop it!”

“A drunken man, growing angry and battering his wife’s head until it bursts. Unable to stop himself due to inebriation. An old farmer driving a carriage, falling off a cliff in drunken stupor. A group of kids, falling into lidless sleep, choking on their own vomit, after they spent the night sharing bottles. Bottles you sold.” She sighs. “You never stopped to think of that. If your wine could produce so much evil, shouldn’t you be held responsible?”

“Shut up!” You shriek, standing up on shaking legs, pointing your bandaged hand at her. “You know—nothing—nothing of me or my family! We—it was our craft, you wretched devil! We were —proud!—proud of our wine! I used to run through the vineyards with my brothers! People were happy! We were happy! Give! It! Back!”

Tears run down your cheeks, fat and warm.

“Give it back—”

Like a sail losing its wind, you fall back against the wall and once more you slump like a sack of bricks.
This time, Lithala of the Night Lands does not pick you up.
Give it back, you mouth.
To her? To yourself?
To Ansàrra?
No answer either way.

[cont.]

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>>6310639

Your breath ragged, you feel your chest tighten—
The Stilladìa stands. She glances at the cameo, still spinning, but she does not move to get it.
Do you even care anymore?
It’s hers.

She made it.

You were just the courier.

And it hasn’t pulled her back at all.
Did Ansàrra think it would be enough to make her fall in tears on her knees and beg for forgiveness? If anything it has only made her angrier.

“I am also happy and proud when people use my gifts to reach their ends.”
“What ends? Death and destruction? So proud,” you retort in a whisper.
“That is not up to me.” A pause. “I desire to level the playing field. It is far from a clean job, to make a Goddess obsolete.”

“Well, congratulations. You proved your point. Now you can go die in a ditch, or against the Seven… I do not care. I do not… I do not care,” you lie.

You promised to yourself you would help Willow. That you would protect your friends!
You trusted in Ansàrra—and right after you put all you had in Her hands, She leaves you… has Master imprisoned, Rubida and Soralisa separated.

All to give this stupid thing back to someone who doesn’t even want it.
Master was wrong to put his trust in you.

So very wrong.

“I used to run through the vineyards,” you mutter. You are so tired.
The Moon, the world, the Worm.

It’s all so confusing.

Think with your own head[/i.]

The Trial of Gold.

Being used and discarded like that… like it happened to Bragia?
What happened to turn her like this?
She spoke of a betrayal… was what happened on the shores a betrayal?
You want… to go back.
No idea how.

“Smelled like dry earth and sweet grapes. Ripe for the harvest. The scent of home,” you add. You want to go back to those times.

To when the world still made sense and your silver hair was just a quirk of your birth, not a sign of heresy.
A bitter pulse spreads through you at the thought. You did everything for Ansàrra. For the Maduans. To protect their inane lives, their peace, their stolid lives: you toiled, you climbed on the glass hill for them! You stained your shirt red for them!
The Sun-Birther may have Her reasons, but Astoria… she only did all this for self-gain!
Like merchant filth—

“Smoke,” comes Lithala’s voice. “The amber smell of firewood and lacquer.” A pause. You raise your watery gaze to meet her glowing one. A corner of her mouth twitches. “And the comforting scent of fresh linen.”

Your lower lips twitches. That sounds like…

“Is—Is that what you smell when…”

“When Ansàrra is with me,” she breathes through her nose. Once again, she does not breathe in. “I only have to bow my head, and I can come back home.” She chuckles. “It would be so simple.”

[cont.]

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>>6310641

That ugly jolt of jealousy stings you once again, burning bitter in your throat, like you drank a mouthful of cleaning alcohol.

“She is so patient with you,” you grumble.

For the favorite daughter.
Compared to her, you are just a discarded rag.
After all you did.
A Knight is gracious—but right now you don’t feel knightly at all.

Then the Stilladìa sets a finger against her lips.
Thinking.
Thinking is dangerous always, even more so from her.

You should probably choke her slender neck, or bash her head in with… with something.
Your sword must still be around here somewhere.
If you thought it would do anything but amuse her, you’d strike.

Instead, she nods to herself.

“I came here knowing much about you, Argia Candente. You knew very little about me.”

“I know enough.”

“Not everything your faith taught you has proven true as of late, has it?” She smiles. Softer than a grin. She looks almost… embarrassed. “I know how it is. The frustration—the feeling of betrayal. And I know how confused you are. So: I do have a proposal. Your Trial approaches, and you must take a decision. Will you go onward, ignorant, with that yoke around your neck and that blindfold over your eyes, walking like a mad woman towards the abyss and the shower of molten gold that will turn your bones into charred cinders—”

“You have such a way with words. Trusting Ansàrra is not madness!”

You shout, and she continues, undeterred, her confidence a wedge piercing what little you can hold on to.

“—or see for yourself. And learn. And decide, standing, on your own feet.”

[cont.]

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>>6310643

She waves her right hand, the waterfall of stars inside her horns blooms into a curtain of silver light, covering and erasing the walls, the stone… and you are outside.
You are sitting in the middle of a meadow. Her Sun is high—and warm, so… so it must be Her third, right?—and the clouds white and playful. The silver ring shines as bright as happy thoughts. Perhaps a little wider than you are used to seeing it?
Where is this?
And most importantly… when is this?
“It is an old story, quite interesting,” the Stilladìa adds, lending you a hand to help you stand. You blink and past her, you see a group of four people.
Two women and two men.
A tall and broad friar, his thick arms covered in chains. A slender blonde man flipping through a book. And two women sparring between them.
One of them has short brown hair.
Olive eyes.
And she is holding a morningstar.
“I think,” muses the Stilladìa, “that you have earned the right to witness it.”


No! No more visions, no more listening, no more nothing! You pull away and curl up like a dead thing in a corner of your cell. Just… make it stop, please. Make it stop. Have her leave you alone.

You take her hand and stand. The sky is full and vast, and the land… isn’t this a bit familiar?

You don’t take her hand, but stand on yourself, and walk, stunned towards the Bragia of the past. Is this just a memory? Can you interact with the environment, with… her?

Add a suggestion

Well, wasn’t this another update supposed to be kinda neat and short. The tale grows in the telling… thanks everyone for playing! It was fun trying to spin everyone’s suggestions into the story, as much as I could. Now let’s see… what dreams may come?

>>6310629
>Saint Bragia praised you! Saint Bragia gave you a compliment!
KEK, Argia would be a terrifying idol fan if the circumstances were right, she already got the love for her oshi (bragia merch when?)
>>6310634
>“The Worm cannot be suffered to live, Argia Candente.” Her lips form a thin hard line. “Everything else is collateral.”
Welp, guess Argia won't be able to count on Stilladia to save Willow on this one..it falls on argia to think up a plan.
>>6310644
>You take her hand and stand. The sky is full and vast, and the land… isn’t this a bit familiar?
Stilladìa was a bit tactless about Argia's family plight but a lack of guilt over it makes her more trustworthy to my eyes than any pity would ever be, she doesn't feel joy about what happened to Argia, but she is not going to feel responsible about it either, which is pretty much what I already expected. It's more respectful than a showing of pity.
Also she did go the extra mile in making Argia's hand salvageable, ulterior motives or not Argia loses nothing in being courteous and letting Stilladìa get into storyteller mode. and holding back a little on the murderous thoughts kek

>>6310644
>Add a suggestion

Begging a merchant is so far below us, She can't offer us anything of interest; and won't offer us what we would want. Playing along with this "pity party" is pointless. She's clearly going to show us what she wants when she wants to, and there Isn't anything we can do about that she has a captive audience, Doesn't mean we need to play along.

It's all fake anyway, and based on her perception of events, nothing to do with whatever actually happened
Argia's not going to offer her soul, nor compromise on Willow, even if its not possible. It's that not hard but is so very clearly beyond the Stiladia's means, but the fact that she hasn't grokked that Argia's not a "big picture" person, means the lead in is wrong, and she keeps digging that hole even deeper.

~~~~

>>6310678
>Stilladìa was a bit tactless about Argia's family plight but a lack of guilt over it makes her more trustworthy to my eyes than any pity would ever be
But that is the issue it; clearly demonstrates that all she cares about is her contractors, to the extent that the exacting terms of her contract are not breached. Beyond that she cares not. We really want to interact with her the least we can, it won't end well.

She's already told us that she can't give us what we want, end of story. So much for that option; spend the time thinking about and preparing for other eventualities.


That Inanimate objects like said bottle of wine have as much agency as the uncontracted masses, in her eyes In a broad sense; Is a version of Willow's viewpoint when she was on Earth where everyone was an NPC and outcomes were deterministic, the fact that we managed to disabuse Willow of this in short order not withstanding, what we would need is to find someway for her to buy back into things, but that isn't really an option at this point, and she's probably too far gone.

We really shouldn't ever even consider signing a contact, she won't honor it in spirit, nor work around its bounds to our advantage. We don't want anything to do with that, Ansarra at least makes us feel warm inside.

It's a dead end, and the only reason she's doing any of this is to make herself feel better.

>>6310644
>You don’t take her hand, but stand on yourself, and walk, stunned towards the Bragia of the past. Is this just a memory? Can you interact with the environment, with… her?
When we see what really happened with Bragia, we can decide for ourselves if we trust Ansàrra.

>>6310629
feels nice to see this image again
>>6310634
>The Seven have robbed me of the joys of a mortal body. Ansàrra has robbed me of holding a child I could call my own.
shit, the 7 had a hand in making stilly like this ? fuck and to top it off, Ansàrra somehow was responsible for emptying her eggs
>>6310644
>You don’t take her hand, but stand on yourself, and walk, stunned towards the Bragia of the past. Is this just a memory? Can you interact with the environment, with… her?

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>>6310644
>You don’t take her hand, but stand on yourself, and walk, stunned towards the Bragia of the past. Is this just a memory? Can you interact with the environment, with… her?

>>6310692
>Beyond that she cares not. We really want to interact with her the least we can.
But we really don't stand to lose anything by hearing her out, even if she can't help with Willow or the information she gives us is biased, there is no time lost either since she stopped time until she grows bored with her conversation or negotiations break down completely.
>She's already told us that she can't give us what we want, end of story.
Because we don't have a plan to deal with it, if Argia can offer an alternative that can put down the worm without killing willow she is willing to hear Argia out, all she said is that she can't "Deus ex machina" willow for Argia's sake, she will have to come up with something on her own this time around.
>We really shouldn't ever even consider signing a contact, she won't honor it in spirit, nor work around its bounds to our advantage.
But the Stilladìa isn't some genie in the bottle waiting for a "gotcha!" on people who sign deals with her, literally nothing we've read so far in those past 6 threads even implies that she breaks her word or bends contracts, that's not how the Stilladìa operates, everything points out that she is a kind employer, that scene with Bradiamante is proof that she isn't a heartless merchant. We still don't know what she wants to offer Argia anyway, so there's no point in arguing about the fairness of hypothetical deals.
Betting all our chips on maybe Argia's friends coming in a clutch to free Argia of her trial or for Ansàrra to hear her plight a minute before the trial of gold happens is silly when we lose nothing by seeing all the options available
>She can't offer us anything of interest; and won't offer us what we would want
The thing Argia wants above literally everything else, including Willow, is to give her family a safe home in madua, even Argia’s friends or flings can't compare to that life goal, that's the whole reason Argia followed master and even converted to Ansarra's faith and so far it doesn’t seem like Ansarra or her faithful can provide Argia with that little.>Ansarra at least makes us feel warm inside.
And as far as we know nobody associated with her will grant safe passage to Argia's family since Argia is already a branded heretic (unless we are really counting on a last minute miracle where sunmommy herself comes down on the trial and declares Argia the next Saint Bragia reborn) nor save Willow. Again Argia's first priority was never truly being a "Knight of Ansàrra" that was always a means to an end (even if she took to the faith like a fish takes to water), but to find her family a safe haven and from the smile the stilladia offered Argia at the mention of her family she seems to be able to do something about her family’s current plight, which already merits hearing her out, even if the worm is dealt with it won't matter if her family is in the same spot as when she first started.

>>6310867
>But we really don't stand to lose anything by hearing her out
We do though, it could well be brought up at trial, and if we don't resist at every step. A it opens up holes in the defense that we aren't her agent falls apart if we're seen to be "taking orders". After all she wants something from us as she wouldn't put the effort in otherwise.

>if Argia can offer an alternative that can put down the worm without killing willow she is willing to hear Argia out
I doubt that she's going to sit around and wait for a plan to be created before acting should it prove necessary. So Argia's stuck on her timeline.

>all she said is that she can't "Deus ex machina" willow for Argia's sake
And Ansarra knew for a fact that she could birth suns before she did? She constrains her abilities by predisposing that much simply isn't possible.

>literally nothing we've read so far in those past 6 threads even implies that she breaks her word or bends contracts
Sure, but she would still have us agree to her terms and conditions, and with having done this near 40,000 times. I don't doubt that they by necessity would be unerringly narrow in scope, or overly burdensome. She is after all perfectly free to just "not" to offer up a deal.

>We still don't know what she wants to offer Argia anyway, so there's no point in arguing about the fairness of hypothetical deals.
She's already told us she can't do what we would want her to, thus there is nothing of interest for either of us here.

Poisoning "the Well" is only going to actually get us dead in the coming trial, so I don't know why she keeps trying to predispose any and all possible arguments in our defense. Even then I doubt that Ansarra doesn't know about this meeting, we need to push back on this.

>when we lose nothing by seeing all the options available
Again we do lose something, we have heard what the charges laid before us are, and to go in the 11th hour before judgement and make them true; defeats the last possible defense we have. As it would transform the charges from patently false, to well. Materially True. Remember that the charges being brought before Ansarra to rule on relate to being an "Agent of", not a "Contractor of".


>The thing Argia wants above literally everything else, including Willow, is to give her family a safe home in madua
And the Stilladìa is not some grand Gatekeeper of Madua, and so it entirely falls outside her remit to grant


>And as far as we know nobody associated with her will grant safe passage to Argia's family
Rubida's familial connection could probably be lent on to get them in, as menials; it not yet beyond salvage, to the point where a Contract would be the only path left.
The knighthood was the only expedient and workable method presented at the time of its undertaking

>at the mention of her family she seems to be able to do something about her family’s current plight
And what could Argia possibly offer her at this point that is, worth the pending execution?

>>6310644
>You don’t take her hand, but stand on yourself, and walk, stunned towards the Bragia of the past. Is this just a memory? Can you interact with the environment, with… her?

>>6310888
Anon, I think you're looking at this a bit narrowly.

Ansarra already knows wee're dealing with the Stilladia and doesn't care; in fact, she wanted us to. It was possibly her reason for favoring us and getting the cameo to us.

As for what the rest of the less than faithful fellowship woll think... Right now they don't know we're dealing with Stilly. If they find put, it won't matter if we took the deal or not: seeing a silver witch in our cell will be damning enough.

As for our family, Stilly can't get them into Madua, but I bet she can get them safe housing away from The Landing Strip.

And why would The Adversary do that? Because she's still a very sentimental person, as we've seen in all of her vignettes, and right now probbaly because Argia reminds her so much of herself. She would make the deal in a heartbeat, I bet, if her heart still beat.

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>>6310692
>>6310867
>>6310888

>triple eights

checked

# # # # # #

interesting discussion throughout these posts. I'll try to clarify the most important points brought up, in a QM-ex-cathedra fashion, so take this as me speaking to the players in general.

>Stilladìa cannot offer Argia what she wants

she most certainly can, otherwise she wouldn't bother being here. Safety for her family (probably not in Madua, but any safe place where they can rest and recover will be more than enough). It might probably be less optimal than Ansàrra saying 'sike!' and everyone clapping and giving Argia their Congratulations! Congratulations!, but that's a fever dream.

>This memory is fake

everything that I showed you so far throughout the threads goes against treating The Stilladìa as a liar. Taking everything she says at face value might not be wise, but that's true for every person you meet down the street.

>The Stilladìa is not some 'gotcha!' genie

correct.

>the thin Argia wants above literally anything else, including Willow, is to give her family a safe home in Madua

yes. I tried to make this as obvious as it could be. Right now the prospect is Madua of course, because of the past few years and all the sweat tears and blood you shed, but the ultimate goal is to keep her family safe forever,, no matter what.

>holes in the defense

the Trial of Gold is not a normal process when you have lawyers and procurators. Astoria and the Amaranthines have already judged Argia as guilty (this whole part of the 'process' is a sham), but the last word comes from Ansàrra herself. If you'll burn and die under the shower of hallowed gold She has melted, you will have been just a tool for a purpose. Then again, Ansàrra might save you at the last moment. You can still put your trust in Her.

But you do not know.

The Stilladìa can certainly take you out of here, away from Madua, and protect your family. What matters is if if you trust her enough.

>Rubida's familial connection

is naught before the Amaranthines and less than zero before the word of the Sun-Birther. Remember what happened when Maduans saw Argia's silver hair: they turned on her on a dime.

>And what could Argia possibly offer her at this point that is, worth the pending execution?

the only thing the Stilladìa craves more than any soul, more than all the souls she has collected.

>yea but what is it

it will become increasingly obvious

# # # # # #

Alright, I hope that clarifies things a bit for everyone. I should be able to write an update in about two to three hours so see you soon!

>>6310894
>Ansarra already knows we're dealing with the Stilladia and doesn't care; in fact, she wanted us to.
This hasn't confirmed directly though a vison or otherwise, and with no indirect guidance as to where the limits actually lie. And I wouldn't be absolutely certain. After all Ansarra's opinion clearly gets diluted and its just reading into things at this point. It'd be a different story if the Blessing wasn't obviously withdrawn upon our landing in Madua. Where fewer questions

What do we even infer from these occurrences, our hand was pretty badly hurt by her flame, why assume that we still have her favor. I just think that some level of caution should still be exercised.


>If they find put, it won't matter if we took the deal or not: seeing a silver witch in our cell will be damning enough
So why engage now of all times, if she leaves its less likely to have been an issue we don't know what kind of countermeasures the Amaranthines have access to, sure she can stop time and flit around as she wishes, doesn't mean it won't have been noticed after all Carnival's feather reacted to her presence.

If this is part of a ploy to reduce obstructions to justice there are far easier ways to go about it. Something larger is obviously afoot; and Argia is only a footnote at this point.

>can get them safe housing away from The Landing Strip
Where? Thanks to Argia's appearance Madua, and her actions the Thronelands aren't an option; and heading to Frigéia wouldn't likely go down well, and the Nightlands really don't have much to offer at all.

~~~~

>>6310896
>she most certainly can
In context it was meant to reference the fact that she isn't going to go out of her way to save Willow, nor would she be likely to make a deal that forced her hand on that matter. It's obvious that breaking said contract would have "consequences", even if she had no part in her death. As it would constrain her options in dealing with "the Worm", which would have strategic impact on the balance of powers among others and so obviously be untenable in her position.

>throughout the threads goes against treating The Stilladìa as a liar
It's not that she has lied, but she would only show us things that are strictly advantageous to her position in a negotiation, as a prospective contractor. It makes no sense to not cautiously engage in the way this gets framed; as it will impact the terms she will offer, or what we should ask for to trade.

>correct.
It's more so that I'm prepping for her to absolutely lowball us, as we don't know our value to abridge the demands on her side of the contract; and use anything she shows us as cause to do so. She can't reference things if we don't engage in finding out and her being the "any port in a storm" option doesn't sit right with me at this point.She claims she can stop time, why not wait until after Ansarra makes her determination, should it go badly. Then She'd literally have us over a "barrel".

>>6310894
for some reason I missed this while I was replying.

good points anon, good points!

>And why would The Adversary do that? Because she's still a very sentimental person, as we've seen in all of her vignettes, and right now probbaly because Argia reminds her so much of herself. She would make the deal in a heartbeat, I bet, if her heart still beat.

anon getting me all tear-eyed...

>>6310926

>for her to absolutely lowball us

won't happen, what you put to the table is far too important to her. If it's not yet clear, just be patient for a bit, it should get clearer soon enough.

currently writing update

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>>6310812
>the Seven had a hand in making Stilly like this?

oh, more than a hand. Hold on to your butt anon, things will get wild.

# # # # # #

>>6310644

You don’t take her hand, but stand on yourself, and walk, stunned, towards the Bragia of the past. Is this just a memory? Can you interact with the environment, with… her?


Standing on your own, you have barely the time to witness Lithala of the Night Lands quirking an eyebrow at refusing her hand.
Was that uncouth? A bit… but she’s still the Adversary.
White hair and red eyes and black horns and all.

So different from the young woman struggling against her redhead opponent. You stumble forward, your right hand pulsating with pain.
Even in this place, even in a memory, you feel your body.
The experience is like when you were shown your visions—and yet closer. The tickling of the blades of grass against your calves, the smell carried by the wind, the heated sunlight kissing your skin… it’s like you are living the scene.

Bragia Lacresta, meanwhile, is losing.

You stand a dozen paces away from her while the wind brushes against the grass and runs through your silver mane. Your mouth agape, as the greatest Knight of all times, more beloved than even Kishirra, your inspiration… almost loses her grip on her weapon, under the onslaught of quick strikes from the other girl.

“That’s not good,” the redhead says. You have seen her during your latest vision.

Esta Tempestatis, the Strander.

“You—you are putting too much strength into it!” Bragia laments, taking a step back as Esta goes for a deeper swing. Her olive green eyes scan her surroundings and linger for the tiniest moment on the patch of cinder and dust that surrounds the remnants of their bonfire—then back at the girl who is poking holes through her defenses.

“The Seven would not go easy on you. Word!” The Strander retorts, pushing back the shorter, slender figure. She only wears a thin linen robe, grey and white. A far cry from the ornate amour your have seen her fight with. Esta holds a sword, so she has the advantage of reach, and looms over the smaller figure of Bragia, who can only step back, getting closer and closer to the extinguished campfire.

“Don’t push her too much, Esta,” says the blonde boy, lifting his eyes from the book. He drums his finger over the paper. “This is not a competition.”
Bragia’s cheeks flush redder, but she doesn’t ask for quarter. In fact, she lowers the centre of her body, while holding her arms farther away.
Her responses grow even slower, but even like this, Esta couldn’t push her down, she is—

You blink.

That’s similar to Master’s own training. What if…

[cont.]

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>>6310972

“Word! That’s something coming from you, Master bookworm!” She teases over her shoulder, while pushing Bragia farther, right into the circle of shed cinders. “Will you protect her by entertaining the Seven with words? No! Only steel can!”
Esta pushes forward. Bragia falls on her knee, barely holding up her mace, but her olive eyes grow sharper.
Behind them, the imposing figure of Fra’ Catena smirks as he crosses his thick arms together, making the chains running over his arms crinkle.
“Only I can protect her!” Esta shouts, pushing forward with a strong swing. Enough to disarm her.
Bragia lowers herself almost to the ground. With one fluid motion she scrapes her boot against the cinders, throwing them into Esta’s blue eyes. The Strander shrieks and instinctively covers her face, but it’s too late. Bragia dashes ahead, rolls on the ground, kicks Esta’s legs from behind and makes her fall on her butt. Sitting on one knee, she points the heavy pommel at its end against her forehead, and gives it a playful tap, as Esta rubs the dust off her eyes.
“You better learn to mind your surroundings first,” she chuckles. Standing up, she holds out a hand and Esta takes it, her cheeks shiny like a red pepper.
“That—you cheated…” she pouts, but accepts her help, standing up and dusting off her clothes.
“I thought you said the Seven wouldn’t go easy on me,” she grins.
Ah, there it is.
That same smile.
“See? No worries!” She adds, opening her arms wide and addressing Candeloro, who stands up with a sigh. “Everything is going to be just fine. Ansàrra willing, we will complete this last mission, and then—” she doesn’t finish, but her smile grows warmer as her hand brushes against that of the blonde boy.
“Always so eager… remember to keep your head on your shoulders, runt,” he chuckles fondly, running his hand through her dark hair. “It is not over until it is over.”

[cont.]

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>>6310974

“Yet, I believe she is ready,” comes the thunderous voice of Fra’ Catena. “In spirit, mostly. As for the rest, it will be just like Ansàrra wants.”
“As always,” Bragia agrees with a nod.
“Starless Night,” comes the Stilladìa voice right besides you as she kneads her forehead, “was I a runt indeed. With the sun in my eyes, blind and daft. Ah…” she rubs her neck, and her cheeks grow darker. Not pink, like it would be expected, but a darker grey. Even the un-light lingering amidst the tiny cracks running all over her body pulsates. “I thought it would be easier to share all this. How embarrassing…”
Your heart beats fast, your throat tightening. You whip your gaze back and forth, back and forth between the smiling young woman almost holding hands with Candeloro and the Adversary, her arms crossed, biting her lips as she takes in her own memories.
It all feels like a thin crystal ball—just a touch, a breath, and it would fall apart.
“How—How is this real? How do I know it’s not some sort of illusion or…” but even as you speak, Candeloro gently presses his hand on the small of Bragia’s back and the brunette Saint yelps softly, blushing and looking away, a hand over her mouth to stifle any uncouth sounds.
Next to you, the Stilladìa, the soul collector, the bane of everything that is holy, is shivering, her cheeks a dark grey, hand covering her mouth just like the Bragia in the memory.
“He was always so sneaky…” she muses in a hushed, heated breath. “F-Forget what you saw, Argia Candente, I-I should have started at another time.”
Alright.
It’s hard to argue with that.
This is real.
“Starless Night,” you agree with the Stilladìa.
We are fit for storms, your dad used to say.
You pray… you hope he was right.

[cont.]

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>>6310975
# # # # # #


Soralisa takes a long, thin breath.
She shivers, even in the eternal spring of the Holy Land. The chill of that time when Argia was taken away from them—when she was branded a heretic and carried away by Astoria for that sham of a travesty of whatever political play is going on…
… it has never left her.
Praying help.
Working helps more.
And as she slowly opens the hidden door, revealing a slender figure dressed in the simple clothes of a maidservant, helps even more.

“You have come,” she gasps, throwing herself at Rubida. The Maduan noble takes off the shawl covering her mane, now once more dyed its proper black.

“Hush, hush,” Rubida urges her. “Keep your voice down. Even the walls can grow ears, if Astoria wills it.”

“I missed you,” Soralisa explains, enjoying the feeling of being able to squeeze her, to hold her, to hug her. Her arms are almost back to their full strength. Praise the Sun-Birther. “Almost lost my mind once again. Do you have any news?”
Rubida pulls back, her hand reaching for Soralisa’s cheek to cup it with affection.

“None which may be worth sharing. None from the capital, either. Argia will have to go through the Trial of Gold, anyway. It’s been eight days since we have seen her… and no news at all.” A sigh. “What about you?”

“Ibardo is still held in Ansàrra’s palace.”

Rubida frowns, setting a finger over her lips. Soralisa wonders what kind of sharp thoughts are running behind her deep blue eyes. The blood of Anthìlia of old runs through her veins. So different from her. Soralisa’s family is little more than peasantry—and yet even one such as lofty as Rubida Dell’Obertengo is caught up in this gilded web Astoria has spun around all of them.
If the chance comes to show her gratitude to the Blessed Blind…

“We must assume is voluntary…” Rubida says, “Even if we manage to sneak this letter into his room, I wouldn’t be sure he would get out of it.”

“Not after we tell him everything that happened!”

“Keep your voice down,” Rubida sighs. “You are so full of energy. I envy you, I couldn’t sleep for a cycle. And coming here wasn’t easy either… Father is breathing down my neck night and day and I can’t keep calling in favors forever. Tell me you have something.”

“I… I think I might have.” She produces an envelope from her pocket, unfolding it with utmost care. Rubida’s eyes grow wide… and then she squints at the angled squiggles all over it. “What is this?”

[cont.]

>>6310977

“It’s Kiengir!” Soralisa beams, forgetting to keep her voice down once again. “Oh. Sorry—sorry. I mean… it’s the old language of the Kiengir. It took me days to try and find the correct words.”

“And why would you…?”

“Master Ibardo certainly knows it! Remember his weapon? It’s inscribed with faint Kiengir inscriptions, I have seen it! And I bet he’s one of very few in all of Madua to know how to read and write in their old tongue. No risk of our message getting intercepted.”

“And what does this… say?” Rubida asks, passing her finger over the letters.

“You are holding it wrong. You read it clockwise, in cycles of six. It reads: ‘Argia in grave danger. Separated from us. Trial looms. Help!’”

“Soralisa…” Rubida looks at her with a wild look. “Are you telling me you spent the past few days unearthing a dead language to write a letter?”

“I—”

“So proud of you!” Rubida squeezes her. “Oh, and all I could do was eat through my fingernails and play the dutiful daughter. What would we do without you!”

“Ow…ow…ow, you are squeezing too tight!”

“Apologizes. By my family’s name, this is incredible work. Now we just have to give it to him.”

“Yes!” Soralisa squeals. “I mean… yes. That’s… the hard part.”

“There’s the end of summer prayer for Kishirra, in a couple days. In preparation of the Crimson Days aurations. It’s held in the palace…” Rubida explains, “but it’s on admission only, and for anointed Knights or above. I wouldn’t be admitted, let alone invited… what else…” she bites into her finger, nervous.
Soralisa holds the piece of paper in her hands, trying to think of a way. What else could there be. Anything?
Anyone?
Then Rubida sets her finger over her handiwork.

“Impressive. The sixteenth letter is wrong, however.”

“How do you—ouuuu! You!” Soralisa jumps away, crashing against Rubida, who looks agape at the auburn-haired figure that has just appeared between them. She and Rubida share a look.
Did she even hear her?

See her?
Perceive her?
Nothing of the sort.

Rosandra gives them a look. Still bandaged from head to toe, just as deadly as the day they have first met her.

“So,” she starts. “What were you discussing, if I may ask?”

[cont.]

don’t tell me you forgot about our favourite Inquisitor/Knight of the Gerofalco, anon…

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>>6310979

# # # # # #


The Stilladìa sits on the grass, legs crossed. The other figures have stopped moving, as if frozen in time.
She pouts and rests her chin on her hand, looking up at you with her glowing pupils.
“If you will forgive me with showing you such an improper memory, we can move on. I desired to give you a snippet of how life used to be for us, right on the eve of our mission. But I might have miscalculated…”
“The last mission. Right?” More than a memory it feels like living through a dream. Reliving the past with Saint Bragia.
Or what is left of her.
“Yes…” a shadow passes over her brow. “The Seven are down one member, all thanks to what happened over the course of the following days and nights. I want to show you how Merope of the Seven died—died forever, I mean. Ansàrra’s plan to erase one of the Sisters worked.” A scoff. “No matter the collaterals.” She raises her chin. “But it is up to you, Argia Candente. This is your hour, after all. Be my guest and ask anything of me. For once, I shall spare no expense… what ever you want to see, I shall show.” A pause. “Save for anything that is intimate, of course.”


She mentioned the smell of smoke and the crackling of fire… where does that memory comes from? Her own childhood, just like yours? Is that when she met Ansàrra?

What about her companions? Save for Esta, they would all die soon. No, wait, is Candeloro… the husband she was talking about? How did that even work?

Let’s see her battle with the Sister. According to Maduan records, Bragia did beat her right away, but… what happened?

Add a suggestion or a request

shorter update because I’m literally sleeping at the keyboard. Thanks for playing! Let’s see what you’ll choose to see first…

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>>6310974
>“Only I can protect her!” Esta shouts, pushing forward with a strong swing. Enough to disarm her.
Kek, can't blame Esta for being down bad for Bragia, but she can't beat Candeloro, childhood buff too strong (don't nerf).
And with a bit more luck Argia would have gotten front seat view to some very interesting intimate acts, sadly her husband wasn't sneaky enough.
>>6310979
Of all the things Argia managed to achieve, a friendship with Rosandra is the pinnacle of achievements, there is only so much our cheerleader and nerd can do on their own, though I missed them something terribly.
>>6310980
>Let’s see her battle with the Sister. According to Maduan records, Bragia did beat her right away, but… what happened?
As much as I want to poke around and find out more about her past, as I am sure Argia wants to, she probably can make more use on how to kill sisters and the consequences of doing so.

>>6310980
>Let’s see her battle with the Sister. According to Maduan records, Bragia did beat her right away, but… what happened?

I would assume Candeloro was transformed by the Seven as well, or transformed himself to be with his wife in eternal life. I assume this because if her goo-guy was someone else, then she'd probably look a lot more wistfully sad at her first, lost love, rather than embarrassed and lightly horny.

>>6310979
I mistook Rosandra for Sandora before reading the spoiler and only now I'm noticing their name is similar
>>6310980
>Let’s see her battle with the Sister. According to Maduan records, Bragia did beat her right away, but… what happened?

>>6310980
>What about her companions? Save for Esta, they would all die soon. No, wait, is Candeloro… the husband she was talking about? How did that even work?

>>6311005
>childhood friend buff too strong

oh, you have no idea

>I missed them

me too anon... hopefully soon enough you can all be reunited and take turns spanking Willow's ass red

>>6311020

no spoilers anon

>>6311026
>their name is similar

I have lost count how many times I mistakenly wrote 'Soralisa' when I meant 'Salicera' and the other way around...

>>6310980
>Let’s see her battle with the Sister. According to Maduan records, Bragia did beat her right away, but… what happened?

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>>6310980
>What about her companions? Save for Esta, they would all die soon. No, wait, is Candeloro… the husband she was talking about? How did that even work?

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>>6310980

vote tally is 4 to 2 for green.

Let’s see her battle with the Sister. According to Maduan records, Bragia did beat her right away, but… what happened?

# # # # # #

Well, you certainly don’t want to intrude in anything intimate.
“I have been scarred enough by accidentally walking in on Master’s escapades over the years,” you reply. “Thank you very much.”

And here it is. The chance to explore the life of Saint Bragia from the very source. Walking through her memories, led by the same person who lived through them!
How… how for example the first time she met Ansàrra. Or what her childhood must have truly been like.

The thought that things went differently from what Master said, from what the official records said, makes your mind reel. But you can only ignore your senses for so long.
Even Rosandra, of all people, was forced to accept the truth: they you were not an agent of the Adversary.

The thought makes you shiver with the awareness that at the end of all this, there is still a chance for…

Your Faith is transactional.

You don’t think of it as much: you would gladly follow Ansàrra through pain and suffering, just as a way to thank Her for everything She did for you.
And yet—leaving you alone? In the cold? Separated from your friends and appointed as an enemy and a spy and a heretic?

Your right hand pulses with dull pain. If you are good to it, and you take care of the charred stump that’s your palm and fingers, you may be able to regain parly its use.
Over the years.

Because Ansàrra’s own flames burned you.
And no Sanction goes through Her that she does not wish to—
Oh.
Oh… no.

“Like Effimera Corona—” not the one in the Temple.
The one in the forest which almost consumed Soralisa like dry paper.

[cont.]

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>>6311303
You shake your head.
No.
Nevermind. You need to focus. Think.
Think about what you need to see.
What will help you in your decision. Which will probably be which buttcheek of the Adversary to kick into next cycle.
“I saw its mark,” the Stilladìa says, a shade of that smirk coming back to her lips. “When I came to investigate the Well you destroyed. A mighty Sanction, and yet clearly mis-cast. Your friend with the burnt hands, right? Is she better now?”
What does she care?
Everything she says is just to pull you towards her own vision of things, remember?
You clench your left hand.
Your right one—you do not.
“Much better.”
You hope. Soralisa had been scraping her throat raw—
“That’s good. Nobody deserves to burn because Ansàrra just felt like it,” she adds with a side glance.
“I will not burn. I will overcome the Trial of Gold.”
She scoffs.
“I admire your confidence. Reminds me of a certain young Knight, so eager to put her trust into those undeserving of it. I am sure it helped her greatly,” she adds with bitterness spoiling her tone like mold.
“I want to see the night you killed the Sister,” you declare, taking back the reins of the conversation. You can’t let her lead. She’s far too good at using the truth like a knife, carving the shapes the wants.
“Going straight to the core of things, I see. Good choice. This way I would not have to embarrass myself further…” she hesitates. “Well, save perhaps with anger.” She closes her eyes, briefly. The stars amidst her horns pulsate, and then they wink out, thousand by thousand, fading into nothingness until only two remain.
You blink, stunned. What did she do?
“You should understand, Argia Candente—these are the events that shaped my existence. I try not to dwell on them too hard, like you shouldn’t scratch over a scabbed wound. But there is more at stake that my own convenience. Admitted such a thing was ever at stake… ugh, after this I am going straight to Frigéia for a breakfast with Helias…”
“No, no, wait. What was that? That thing with the lights between your horns?”
“Turning this into a private audience. Almost private—those two can stay.”
Curiosity gnaws at you. If those were her contracted souls, why leave two?
Who are they?She catches you wondering and crosses her arms behind her slender back.
Uhm. Perhaps you should ask her to put on clothes…
What is it with her and Carnaval always going out and about naked?
“One of them is Bradiamante. I am sure you know her.”
You jolt.
“B-Bradiamante? Bradiamante made a pact with you?”

[cont.]

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>>6311304

She makes a show of picking at her nails.
“Who else? I owe much to that girl. She allowed me to free up Silt trade. Make many friends among the Asterites. Sink my roots into the Treviri Throne. So she gets preferential treatment.”
“So what they say around is true. Rosandra was right. The Throne is under your thumb!”

“If only,” she sighs. “It would give me more confidence over the eventual war with Madua, to have yet another of the Powers of the World at my disposal. But alas, I will only have to make to with a few hundred Asterites and half the noble houses…”

Eventual war with Madua?

“What do you mean? What war?”

“None for now. Maybe none for the next two or three hundred years, either. But I have been pilfering souls away from Ansàrra, haven’t I? Mighty souls. Useful souls. Creating an alternative to her, one that does not necessitates her presence. Argia Candente: do you really think even someone like me could destroy Ansàrra?” She chuckles, holding up her middle fingers and making a gesture as if grabbing at air with their tips. “Madama ‘The Totality of Heavens?’”

Uh.

“I thought—I mean, you are always depicted as…”

“The way I am depicted you have already seen. I certainly don’t carry an axe, and that’s not the biggest difference. Ansàrra makes her own truth, and you drink it with the care she provides.” She shakes her head, white locks waving as if underwater. “I only tried to truly destroy her for the first… ten years or so. I used to be so angry I could not think. That was dangerous. Helias helped me to keep my emotions in check, throughout six hundred years… of learning, making mistakes, and making better mistakes. I owe it all to him.”

“But everyone knows you only want to kill Ansàrra! Like you killed Saint Bragia!”

That smirk again.
Starless Night, she’s running circles around you with every word! If only Rubida were here to give you a hand!

“You have lived through the mists of lies for a long time, I blame you not. It takes a while to get through them.” She taps the side of her head. “Think with your head, remember? How is it going?”

[cont.]

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>>6311305

She takes a step ahead, the frozen scene with the valley and her companion washes over into a confused mixture of shapes and shades, like you were walking through a painting.
“I will bring you to the night when I killed Merope. Or rather, I killed the body Merope wore.”

You walk after her, still thinking about her words. About not wanting to destroy Ansàrra, yet she speak of a war incoming.

“Don’t you think of all the people who would die?”

“It would not be me striking first, Argia Candente. You can take your role as the cameo carrier as a warning.”

“What kind of warning?”

“To me,” she points to her sternum, where a long crack is oozing that blinding light. “The cameo is the sign Ansàrra is still thinking about me as a wayward child to be gently rebuked. I knew as much, but…” she bites her lip. “She has chosen the way that would hurt me the most, of course. That would pull me the closest to her embrace, once again. Because she always must have the last word,” she hisses, then raises a black-nailed hand as if to wave the thought off. “What matters to the world is that what I am doing is starting to truly work. To make her faith obsolete. People can live their lives just by themselves, without any god or goddess or some Kiengir relic treating them like cattle. A world for mankind.”
“But that means you would ultimately lose all your power as well.”

“Heh,” she shrugs. “Less bureaucracy. And I can finally take a day off. Or a decade.”

“S-So, wait!” She is not even walking fast, in fact keeping her stride level with you, but there’s so much to keep a hold of, so many pieces of the puzzle. First, she’s Saint Bragia. Second, the cameo was given to you just to be handed over. And now, you are walking through her memories, and there’s a war coming in the future?

“Of course, all this provided I can shut the door your friend carelessly opened.”

“Willow didn’t mean to—”

“You do not have to explain it to me, Argia Candente. A Strander’s arrogance is usually only toppled by their ignorance. If you are a puppet, she is a thrall. To provide a complete answer to your other question: a final warning. Either I bow my head and go back to her graces and to lick her fingers like an obedient pup, or she is eventually going to torch the world and eliminate all competition. Once again. Would be the second time…”

[cont.]

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>>6311306

“But that would never work! You coming back! It’s madness.”
How can she even think anything like that could make sense? She is the Adversary, she has been for six hundred years! People wouldn’t accept it.

“The Maduans know you are their worst enemy, they would never—”

“Oh, come on now, Argia Candente,” she answers with a tired sigh. “You yourself went from being celebrated to being put on trial, on the turn of a dime. People fear you over such a silly thing as a birth quirk, because their beloved preachers tell them ought to! Ooooooh!” She waves her hands about. “The Stilladìa, the Adversary! She’ll extinguish the light! She is in league with the Seven! She’s the devil, she will make your crops fail and kick your dog and will crash the stock market!”

“What’s a stock mark—”

“I could walk out of Ansàrra’s palace, a glamour over my looks to display the body that was robbed from me, and people would ask Bragia Reborn to bless their newborn!” She makes a small pirouette, while the world around you is awash with colours, slowly congealing into a mountain range, a rainy evening. “The word of Ansàrra is law. It’s more than something human like law. It’s all that there is. You of all people should know as much.” She scoffs. “You were sent that cameo to try and pull me back. She still cares, would you believe it?” The Stilladìa clenches her fists. “What a joke.”

“But the Amaranthines…”

“Who? Those old codgers? A syllable from her onyx lips, and they will be back to their fields, shoveling manure and thankful for it.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“You do not have to. Believe your own eyes. Believe your own ears.” She glances at where your arm ends. “Believe your own charred hand.”

But— no, what she said can’t be true.
It would mean that everything, absolutely everything that happened… it was deliberate.
It only happened because She wanted to… and that thought, which used to be comforting, now makes you feel like a tiny tiny wheel inside some huge windmill, turning to its own tune, and your role is about to—
No, wait! A hole in her reasoning!

[cont.]

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>>6311307

“But I still have to make a choice,” you try. At least this. Let you have this. “If it wasn’t important, why show me all this? If Ansàrra hadn’t bet everything on my choice, then—we wouldn’t be here.”

She gives you a look. Those glowing crimson eyes affixed to you.
It’s the same one Rosandra gave you a few times.

When she realized you were telling the truth, when she started trusting you.
And the Stilladìa—Bragia Lacresta!—is giving you that look, now.

“Impressive. I will say that to my own detriment: correct. It seems you are truly starting to think for yourself. Then again,” she makes a show of checking her sheer-black nails, “you have made a lot of progress since meeting me.”

“Shut up.”

“Carnaval had better chances than you and could not. Which brings us to the task at hand: the memory… and what’s at stake. While I show you the rest of that night, you can start to think about what you want in return.”

“What… what I want?”

“Your choice, my dear. Once again: walk all the way down the ruinous path Ansàrra opened for you, or think about all the benefits you are going to receive.”
“What are you talking about?”

“What would it cost me to give you the location of those merchants who ruined your life? Or to transport your family away from the Landing Strip? Your very own mansion on the shores of the Mar Da Candéa, perhaps on a vein of… whatever you might like, copper, gold, silver? Something more reliable than wine. Just to ensure you must want for nothing for the next few generations.”

Those merchants.
Their location.
Seeing their faces again. The fear, the pain as you plunge your Maduan sword into their stomach—
Your blood sings with a chance at vengeance.
At retribution.
You had tried to forget, to focus all your hate on the Stilladìa—and you already smote her.
The idea of having them next…

“And all this on iron-clad terms. Not someone’s will which may change on a whim,” she adds with a confident smile. “Almost forty thousand happy customers, we have been in business since the Year of the Sun 1108!” She bows with a little flourish.

“I—I am not going to…”

[cont.]

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>>6311308

“I know you do not want to,” she says straightening up. “I would not advise you do either, without a clear mind, so I would not accept an answer right away. Just take it as a thought exercise, Argia Candente. As I said, when it comes to this, I would spare no expenses.”

“And what would it be in it for you?” You cross your arms, wincing as your hand aches.
Your heart beats as loud as thunder.

“Oh,” she grins, “now you are speaking my language, my dear.” Her grin fades into a smile, which crumples into bitterness. “I do not really care about one more soul, Argia Candente. What for? No… thanks to Ansàrra’s machinations, you are in the position of giving me the one thing I have been chasing since the night she discarded me: knowing that I had always been in the right.”

# # # # # #

Important note: the choices below will not come into play right now.
But they will open a path and influence Argia’s thought pattern over the future updates, so weigh your votes carefully: the obvious choice might not carry obvious consequences.

A mansion sounds nice. Not huge, just enough to give you all something to fall back onto if bad times arrive once again. Give them peace… and safety.

Right now, you would still put your faith in Ansàrra. After all, you have yet to see all of her memories. And you are not sure you will change your mind.

Giving your family a decent home is your priority, yes. Then, the location of those bastards that took it away from you. And a few hours alone with them. You and your sword.

Add a suggestion. A puppy? A pony? /qst/ becoming a fast board? We spare no expenses!

>>6311309
>Add a suggestion. A puppy? A pony? /qst/ becoming a fast board? We spare no expenses!
Well if we've got to pick "something", why not shoot for the moon.

Willow's Soul, If The Sisters can bring back one of their number, would it be so much harder for a simple soul to be returned to life?

>>6311313
+1. Not necessarily because Willow's soul is the only thing we want, and certainly not because our crush is worth more than Master or our family, but because Stilly refused outright last time. give her something to chew on: her own limitations. Make HER dwell on her shortcomings, too, since we're already doing so in regards to ours.

>>6311309
>A mansion sounds nice. Not huge, just enough to give you all something to fall back onto if bad times arrive once again. Give them peace… and safety.
I don't think so many of Ansàrra's actions are as malicious as the Stilladia is painting, like the whole "courier" role Argia was thrust upon without her knowledge, rather it was a shot in the dark that came from a place of bringing things back as they were when Bragia trusted Ansàrra. It's just that one can't see all the consequences, like the fact Argia and her friends were the means for a hopeful reunification.
Now having said that since bringing Bragia back into the fold is not going to happen and bringing Argia’s family into Madua is becoming more and more difficult to make happen, I think the Stilladia can do a much better job in providing with what Argia was looking after from the very beginning of this quest, just from that alone she can thank Ansàrra for arranging this fortunate meetup.
Not even Ansàrra herself hates the Stilladia so why should Argia at this point? Everything that Argia and her family had gone through is the result of unforeseen consequences spanning from 600 years ago, they were just victims of the Stilladia and Ansàrra's irreconcilable differences in worldview and madua working on incomplete information, (the merchants are free game though).
It's pretty clear by now that siding with or signing a contract with the Stilladia won't “taint” her soul. The stilladia is not the seven, who are factually evil and tainted to their very essences, at most after her contract is up, her soul will have to spend some time with the Stilladia, Argia will get a crash course in economics and finally learn what the stock market means and the Stilladia will get to feel smug from “taking” Argia away from sunmommy kek.
Their coming war in the next century is nothing but a conflict in worldview (that will kill millions, but it is what it is), there is absolutely no reason whatsoever for Argia to not take advantage of the opportunity and set her family and loved ones with the best possible safe haven the Stilladia can provide in exchange for her soul even if we rescue willow I don't think she will be open to stay at madua either.

>>6311340
>bringing Argia’s family into Madua is becoming more and more difficult to make happen
What's the bet with Argia now facing charges, they've already been either moved on, detained; or killed?


>there is absolutely no reason whatsoever for Argia to not take advantage of the opportunity and set her family and loved ones with the best possible safe haven the Stilladia can provide in exchange for her soul.
Do we really want to find out what happens to Apostates? We have met members of the Order of Gerofalco; I don't rate our chances of being left alone for all too long, especially if something goes down during the trial.

>>6311309
>Right now, you would still put your faith in Ansàrra. After all, you have yet to see all of her memories. And you are not sure you will change your mind.

Perhaps to hear from Ansàrra herself directly about her perspective of the situation.

>>6311359
They weren't killed because otherwise the Stilladia wouldn't have wasted her time offering safe passage and sanctuary to Argia's family, nor would she allow it to happen before a deal can even happen. I doubt they are detained either because if they were, the Stilladia would have immediately used it as ammo against Ansàrra and madua as a whole. Freeing them from detainment or offering to do something about said imprisonment wouldn't be an obstacle to her either, she wouldn't waste an opportunity to further reinforce that she is the better option between the two of them, so everything points out that her family is in the same condition as before (for now).
>Do we really want to find out what happens to Apostates? We have met members of the Order of Gerofalco; I don't rate our chances of being left alone for all too long, especially if something goes down during the trial
From what Stilladia said in the last thread >>6262676 I say our chances are pretty good.
>“If you watched one of those shows, Argia, and you knew the puppet would die during the story, would you like it for it to live? Would you enjoy seeing it as it ripped off its strings, and jumped down off the stage, and ran away to embrace life, for the time that was allotted to it?” She murmurs.
What the Stilladia is offering is to be her patron, and that extends to more than just one or two favours, she already made clear her intention to rebuild Argia into an actual heroine at the last thread (with some very loose strings attached) there wouldn't be a point in having her as her newest client if Argia were to die a month later to the first Gerofalco knight that comes knocking at her door, the stakes are too high for the Stilladia to lowball this contract or playing coy, she wants to prove beyond a shadow of doubt that she is the better alternative to what Ansàrra had been providing to mankind, Argia's being so weak that she would be stomped by the first inquisitor that comes after her not only runs counter to her goals, it is literally the very first thing she will address to level the playing field and give her a better fighting chance.
Argia won't start mogging the likes of Rosandra on a whim, and she will have to look over her shoulder for the rest of her days, mainly because Rosandra doesn't look like the type of person that lets bygones be bygones, but her chances are fine.
of course there is a price attached, but that's concerning her friends, Rubida and Soralisa won't be happy about it if they ever find out, Willow will be crushed knowing everything she did was for nothing deserved, Rosandra will want to kill Argia over and over again, and master will probably be heartbroken over Argia's loss of faith in Ansàrra, but all of this is a very low price to pay for what is at stake, she will have the time to try and mend it back when it's all over, but this time she won't have the concerns that were on the back of her mind holding her back anymore.

>>6311385
>with some very loose strings attached
We still don't know what would be asked of us, or what the actual limitations would be. So until Argia reaches later negotiation stages I'd hesitate to draw such a conclusion, as we don't know how tightly binding and constraints could be.

Another point is with the coming war on the cards, do we really want to be arrayed against our friends, and their families in future. I doubt that it would be considered at the time of any negations to make a specific carveout for them, after all we could well be in her service for a significant period of time, so is worthy of some consideration.

>the Stilladia would have immediately used it as ammo
Do we even have anything that points to the fact that she has even checked on them? Outside of acknowledging that they exist and are a major driver of Argia's actions.

>there wouldn't be a point in having her as her newest client if Argia were to die a month later to the first Gerofalco knight that comes knocking at her door
Depends on how onerous she finds whatever concessions are allotted, and what her use for Argia actually is, it could well be completed in short order. And so leave our side of the pending Faustian bargain complete, with hers ongoing. It's not like Argia could collect it if she were dead, or otherwise falls outside its bounds.

>the stakes are too high for the Stilladia to lowball this contract or playing coy
Depends ultimately what she puts on the table, and what she wants out of said compact. Don't forget the kind of company she keeps; and permits to operate within her remit. They most certainly aren't good people.

>Argia's being so weak that she would be stomped by the first inquisitor that comes after her not only runs counter to her goals
We don't even know how Argia (even in her reduced state) would even fulfill said nebulous goals, at this point; let alone being to implement said actions.


>of course there is a price attached
I still think its to early to commit.

>>6311309
>Right now, you would still put your faith in Ansàrra. After all, you have yet to see all of her memories. And you are not sure you will change your mind.
while 3rd is pretty damn tempting, I wanna think more about it
>>6311340
>Not even Ansàrra herself hates the Stilladia so why should Argia at this point?
see, that's why I don't get why the silver hair thing became so hated. I could understand not linking it by association, but fuckers outright think it's a sign of the stillàdia influencing someone. is Ansàrra not doing any checks on the myths spread unders her domain ?

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>>6311309
>A mansion sounds nice. Not huge, just enough to give you all something to fall back onto if bad times arrive once again. Give them peace… and safety.

>>6311387
>Another point is with the coming war on the cards, do we really want to be arrayed against our friends, and their families in future. I doubt that it would be considered at the time of any negations to make a specific carveout for them, after all we could well be in her service for a significant period of time, so is worthy of some consideration.
If the stilladia isn't widely mistaken about her dates, in all likelihood Argia's friends, and their children and grandchildren's souls will already have joined Ansàrra and be far away from this whole mess by the next century or two.
Worst case scenario, Argia's soul will still be on the stilladia's payroll and she'll get conscripted to the war to do her part.
>Do we even have anything that points to the fact that she has even checked on them? Outside of acknowledging that they exist and are a major driver of Argia's actions.
Considering she quickly caught up to Argia when she was going to the temple finding out about her family's whereabouts seems like a no-brainer; she has a interest in snatching Argia from Ansàrra so there is no reason for her to overlook what makes Argia's brain tick.
>Don't forget the kind of company she keeps; and permits to operate within her remit. They most certainly aren't good people.
But we do KNOW who are those people that the stilladia keeps, and it's not just Bradiamante who is respected and loved even by maduans and she is not even a follower of Ansàrra.
>Then she raises her arms again, and from the dark take shape ghostly figures, one by one: tall men and proud, and beautiful maidens who look aghast at their whereabouts. And sorcerers and kings and heroes.
that isn't to say they are all saints free of sin, but they would count as good and virtuous. The merchants that screw over Argia's family are "associated" with the Stilladia because anything involving bartering automatically gets you put with the stilladia in the eyes of the maduans, but that doesn't make her their patron.
>>6311409
>see, that's why I don't get why the silver hair thing became so hated. I could understand not linking it by association, but fuckers outright think it's a sign of the stillàdia influencing someone.
It has been six centuries and the Stilladìa has done everything she possibly can to set herself and Frigéia (as well as the other two main powers) as the opposition to Ansàrra's truth.
>is Ansàrra not doing any checks on the myths spread unders her domain ?
no because she needed this myth to spread, It's part of why Ansàrra specifically ordered the destruction of all cameos bar one, she needs the maduans to believe that "silver hair = stilladia = evil" to set up a scenario where this one specific girl (Argia) would seek out the Stilladia on her own volition and deliver her message to Bragia, which is a warning to stop challenging her every step of the way and that everything is forgiven if she just comes back already.

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>>6311340
>>6311385
>>6311505

interesting and good points throughout, anon.

ah, you players can't fathom the special feeling I get from seeing this much discussion. truly I am one blessed QM

>>6311359
>>6311387

>I don't rate our chances of being left alone for too long

well anon, that's actually a great point. Demanding direct protection from any lone wolf would be a great thing to do. remember how the Stilladìa protected one of her customers from the shoggoth, all the way back in Thread 4? That's an example (and Argia has much more leverage).

>We still don't know what would be asked of us, or what the actual limitations would be.

smart.

keep in mind the possible full-out war with Madua is still many decades in the making, and none of the Powers truly wants to get involved in it (think of it a bit like a nuclear standoff).

Also, I am weaving the narrative around this so that the quest does not turn into reading legalese, but limitation and obligations will become clearer as well.

>>6311409

>why did the silver hair thing become so hated

besides what anon said, there's also a theme of religious radicalization and paranoia over the centuries. Quoting from her pastebin entry:

>The symbol of the Stilladìa in the five-lobed rosette, with the central petal pointed down. Other symbols are: the number eight, the color silver, the written word, goats, the self-biting snake, money, ink, a hare jumping over a log, greeting people by raising the left hand.

it shows how pretty much anything over the centuries could be associated with her, if people deemed it so.

>I wanna think more about it

good call anon.


very well, I should be able to post a (short) update in a few hours, so I'll be still accepting votes on this particular post for the next four hours beginning with the timestamp.

Thanks everyone for voting and commenting, it truly makes /qst/ feel like home...

>>6311387
>Don't forget the kind of company she keeps
Sunny Annie Bleeds-A-Lot isn't keeping the greatest company, either. Her holy-land is ruling by sneering politicians and policed by violent (if well-intentioned psychopathic sadists.

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>>6311309

# # # # # #

Notice: we currently have a tie between options (besides suggestions which also got 2 votes). Voting on >>6311309 stays open for the next 24 hours. If there’s still a standoff by next update, I’ll decide.

# # # # # #

For a little time yet, in the middle of the Thronelands, it would have been possible to see that vast ring-shaped assortment of caravans, seraglios, merchants and retrievers, which had been given the name of Barroccio.

And there amidst the caravans and the busy people walking back and forth, one could have seen a tall woman, pulling her blue vest tighter as she went to her own business, a sharp smile on her young face, triumph glistening in her green eyes, as a few blonde locks escaped from the hem of her hood.

“This might begin to make things right,” she muttered, throwing a glance past the caravans, the shouting attendants, the guards, the adventurers and their horses, into the wasteland surrounded by the Barroccio, miles and miles of blasted land and forgotten, charred outposts. Over in the sky, a scaled thing twisted on itself as it flew about, monitoring the desert it had made its kingdom.

The burn scars hidden under the cloak of Sandora Mirari tingled at the idea of finally—finally, after all these years—set things in motion that would let her have her vengeance. She would invest most of her fortune, if not all of it, down to every gold coin, into this venture, but what use would coin or comfort be to her in a world that still had the Dragon?

Her elated grin pulled at her lips. She had enjoyed her window of opportunity to the fullest. A shame, abandoning Argia and her friends to that crazed inquisitor, but not even an Eleventh Seat like her could do anything at all against one of Ansàrra’s fanatics, especially when back by centuries of experience.
The Treviri Throne had some impressive armies by itself, the largest population and land area, and most importantly, them: the enslaved star-mages, at the beck and call of the Emperor.

But even they would never dare provoke the ire of Ansàrra.

The Glass Heath and its molten desert had been a lesson the Throne had only needed to learn once.

[cont.]

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>>6311634

Sandora’s mind was pulled to the brief yet intense adventure she had shared there in the forsaken Temple. She had seen the unexplainable might of the Holy Land with her own eyes.

Hopefully, Argia and the others would still be fine. Well, besides that girl, Salicera. Sometimes her neck still hurts where she got kicked.
She couldn’t care less about that dumb kid.
Argia, on the other hand…

And yet, something (was it her instinct as a teacher?) told her that she would see Argia Candente once again, or at least that she was connected to whatever was going on with the world these days.
These nights.

The dead light inside her, the one that carried her powers as a star-mage, had been pulsating in ill waves for a while, now.

More or less since the disaster at the Temple, and ever stronger. She had dared not to call upon her gift, especially not at night, where it was strongest.
But if this—

“Sandora,” called a male voice.

She jolted, turning to see a bald man, covered head to toe in red marks, wearing only a black loincloth.
Her jaw fell, and not just because of his broad shoulders and steely thews, which certainly would have been a welcome sight after cycles upon cycles spent sleeping on her own.
But he had come here unannounced.

“Basilio,” she welcomed the engraved wizard. Where other Asterites carried just the Marks of their birth, Basilio showed them all over his body.

Sandora’s spirit wavered at his presence, so close.
Why was the most powerful Asterite in the service of the Throne here for her?
They had not sent a new Crow after her just yet, so—

But Basilio’s blue eyes lit with fondness, so perhaps not all was lost.
“You have been missing your classes.”
“Yeah, well,” she replied, running a hand through her blonde tresses, even under the hood. “I am a teacher, but not just a teacher.”
“Indeed. I come here to ask you a few questions. As Eleventh Seat.”

[cont.]

>>6311634
>a tie between options
I'll back
>Right now, you would still put your faith in Ansàrra. After all, you have yet to see all of her memories. And you are not sure you will change your mind.
but with the caveat we foreground Willow's soul as the thing we're most willing to hypothetically bargain for right now.

>>6311635

# # # # # #

Thankfully, the Barroccio was full of places that offered shade and good tea. And if you parted with a few more coins, even privacy.

“Thank you for paying,” Sandora blew on her steaming cup, sitting besides Basilio. Just a few rays of filtered sunlight peeked through the tent as they sat in mostly silence, the humdrum of the crowd aside dulled and softened by the fabric. “I am almost completely out of money now. Between everything that happened and my own business here.”

“Nevermind. The Throne will have questions soon enough. I can’t keep your location hidden forever.”

Oh, so he did help.
Something warm settled inside Sandora’s stomach at the thought.

“How many days?”
“Four at most.”
“Then they can send a new Crow even tomorrow. I am finished here, I’ll just take a horse and ride away from the Terra di Marcìta. This way they won’t connect me to this place. Thank you, by the way. It’s nice to know I still have a friend or two at the Academia.”
“I see.” He tapped with his fingers over the low table between them. Sandora set down her cup. “I know one as skilled as you has noticed it.”

Sandora’s slender, scarred hands brushed over the cup’s edge.

“Like a poisoning of the water. The stars are growing styx.”
Basilio grunted.
“Our abilities grow, and yet with them the peril also waxes.”
Sandora sighed through her nose.
No point in keeping anything hidden, really.
He was too good, and he would find out soon enough, and she would have lost a chance to stay in his graces.

“The Seven are on the move.”

Basilio nodded. That glint in his eyes growing to a molten light.
“This time is different from all the others.”

Basilio has more experience than she did. From time to time, when one of the Seven would attempt to reincarnate, every Asterite in the world would feel his powers increase, his abilities awaken. Like blowing straight on an open flame.
It was during such events that both Eldritch Wars had happened.
For all the good that they did to them.

Now, after two rebellions, no Asterite could put her nose out of the window without a Crow sitting on her shoulder.

“It might be tied to that mission. The one we butchered. Remember Carnaval?”
Basilio nodded.
Of course he did.
“One of the girls I watched over seemed to be involved with the Seven.”

[cont.]

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>>6311639

The skin, where Basilio’s eyebrows would have been, creased.
“You could have killed her on the spot, then.”

“I don’t mean it like that! Of course I would have had,” she reassured him. She really must learn to express herself better… “Just that the Sisters seemed to be involved somehow. Also, she was a follower of Ansàrra. And what a follower. I have seldom seen the Sun-Birther—”

“Sun-Birther?” Basilio interjected, a strange smile on his lips. “Are you talking like a Maduan now?”

“I—I have seen a few things on that mission, Basilio. I am not going to put myself at the service of any religion, mind you. But that girl was closely watched, I can tell as much, an seeing Ansàrra’s might with your eyes changes things.”

“The name of this girl?”

“Argia Candente. But last time I saw her she got involved in that little diplomatic incident… I heard one of ours was paraded on a stick for a while.”

Basilio sighed, rubbing his nose.

“The Throne certainly was not amused by that one.”

“What a shame! I was not there and I would know nothing about it,” she grinned.

“You certainly seem to know enough about what is happening, though. As I said, I wanted to know what to think. Between the changing stars and the Seven once more appearing, as well as the diplomatic damage we are currently suffering with Madua—what word should I carry to the Council from you?”

Leave the Maduans to their own devices. The Asterites better not get involved.

Try to find out more about this situation with the Seven. If a true reincarnation is ongoing, then it’s time to alert every Accademia.

Send dispatches to Madua, Frigéia and the Mar da Candéa: her gut feeling tells her something terrible is about to happen, and the Council must be warned.

Add another suggestion

It’s been a while, hm? I also missed our favourite teacher and would have liked to introduce her back a little earlier, but certain things took priority, such as ruining Argia’s life. Thanks for playing!

reminder: the vote for the previous post stays open for the next 24 hours (thanks for the vote, >>6311637)

>>6311641
>Try to find out more about this situation with the Seven. If a true reincarnation is ongoing, then it’s time to alert every Accademia.

>>6311641
>Leave the Maduans to their own devices. The Asterites better not get involved.
Putting her faith in Ansàrra migth be a bit much for an Asterite, but putting her faith in Argia Candente? And maybe lending her a hand as a free agent? Certainly.

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>>6311641
/ourheathen/ is back and even now she thinks about her latest student, it's heartwarming seeing her talk about Argia, glad to know that the experience with Ansàrra's might still shaked her to the core kek btw qm that's some goated file pick you had there.
>Send dispatches to Madua, Frigéia and the Mar da Candéa: her gut feeling tells her something terrible is about to happen, and the Council must be warned.
No half-measures, anything less is bound to bite back everyone including the asterites

>>6311641
>Send dispatches to Madua, Frigéia and the Mar da Candéa: her gut feeling tells her something terrible is about to happen, and the Council must be warned.

>>6311505
>in all likelihood Argia's friends, and their children and grandchildren's souls will already have joined Ansàrra and be far away from this whole mess by the next century or two
Don't forget the "enemy" also gets a vote, who said that the "coalition of the willing" will be given the time they need to reach sufficient technical & manpower overmatch to be comfortable proceeding? It's not like they aren't heavily telegraphing their plan(s), and should Argia retains some notoriety, Or that they also get sent out after Willow and we cross paths. Pending imminent actions Rosandra may not be the only oversight our curently under-strength Manipolo receives

>Worst case scenario, Argia's soul will still be on the stilladia's payroll and she'll get conscripted to the war to do her part.
Eeeh, Worse would probably be being constrained in our latitude to deal with Willow, Being forced to Leave the familiy in a time of need because of contract fuckery due to events of greater "prominence" taking place simultaneously. Made to do horrible things to those undeserving said fate, due to Strategic "advantage" or other reasons.

>and it's not just Bradiamante who is respected and loved even by maduans and she is not even a follower of Ansàrra.
It may be useful if permitted to talk to them and see what they think of whatever deal is offered, and how they feel about their service so far. I can't imagine that everyone has nothing but positive things to say. Shpuld negotiations get that far.

>but that doesn't make her their patron.
Even if she isn't the "De Facto" leader of the Frigéians', She is most certainly involved sufficiently heavily in their politics for more than long enough to make her leader "De Jure" simply by influence alone. So yes, she can, should, and shall be blamed for their conduct. She even acknowledged this by bring up our families (Historic) production of wine as a "retort", since the end use was not monitored for safety It's seen by her as being on a similar level of "morality"
>>6311518
>Demanding direct protection from any lone wolf would be a great thing to do.
And what further cost would it impose, or otherwise demand would it take the place of in said "fair" bargain. It may be worth considering as a "Item" should the addition prove not to be too onerous. But at least initially I'd think that it would preempt the future as Argia and Co. may well have "Protection" sufficiently in hand by themselves that would make it in excess of requirements and effectively wasted for little benefit. It would be a far stronger initial position to limit demands to only those that could not be feasibly otherwise obtained by Argia.

>keep in mind the possible full-out war with Madua is still many decades in the making
Sure but I doubt that the Stilladia will have absolutely no use for the contract until the beginning of hostilities, there would most certainly be shaping operations that occur to set the scene in her favor.

>>6311641
>Try to find out more about this situation with the Seven. If a true reincarnation is ongoing, then it’s time to alert every Accademia.
>Right now, you would still put your faith in Ansàrra. After all, you have yet to see all of her memories. And you are not sure you will change your mind.

>>6312013
+1

Nice this is back.

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for the winning vote for last post is

Try to find out more about this situation with the Seven. If a true reincarnation is ongoing, then it’s time to alert every Accademia.,

while for the previous vote we have

Right now, you would still put your faith in Ansàrra. After all, you have yet to see all of her memories. And you are not sure you will change your mind.

(what is it with blue as of late?)

as the winning option, besides the suggestions (which were interesting and full of with in their own right)

Now, I'd say about 180 more minutes for any eventual voting, and I'll work on the next update so see you all soon.

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>>6311641

Sandora sighed.
What word to carry from her.

Basilio had a true skill for making what was complex look very simple.
Maybe that was yet another reason why her career had only reached the Eleventh Seat.
That, and her lovely personality, no doubt.

What else was there to say? She felt it in her heart, throughout her body—that slick and oily feeling, like a film of taint had spread over the source of her gift.
If gift one could call it, the pernicious magic of the Stars.

It felt like—

“There’s a door that’s been opened,” she murmured, her eyes growing wide, as if some unseen force had taken over her mouth and filling it with intuition beyond her wit. “And I think that if it is not closed, closed shut, then the world will be flooded with its filth.”
Basilio raised his eyes, as if he seeing through the fabric keeping their gazes away from the sky.
Perhaps he could.

“I would urge,” she added, trying to hold her fingertips still making the teacup tinkle and shiver, “to send dispatches to every Accademia.”

Basilio shifted his blue gaze towards hers.

“There is some among the Council who suggested to contact even the other Power. Frigéia and if one wants to call it a Power, even the Candéan Echorists.”

“I—yes, that might be indeed wise, but I fear this change will hit us especially hard.” She shifted her tongue to press against her fake tooth, trying to gain strength from the little thing held inside it. Her secret.

Her last resort, which she thankfully had not been forced to spend in the Temple.

Perhaps a bit of Argia’s luck had been rubbing off on her.

“What do we have to share with a merchant empire that follows profits first or with the intrigues of noble houses surrounding a pond? We are but slaves, all of us. And yet—if we fall, the Throne falls. We know what’s best for us, the others may not.”
She would never see the ruin of the Dragon. She would have failed on every level. Failed her students—her heart jumped at the thought. They would be most vulnerable.
Basilio nodded.


[cont.]

>>6312662

“The girl. This Argia Candente who was in contact with the Seven. Do you think you could reach out to her?”

“She was taken by the envoy, I suppose she is now in Madua.” Sandora shook her head. “If she’s there already, there is nothing we can do. Nothing comes or leaves that Ansàrra does not wishes.”

Basilio’s fingers rapped on the table, a surprising sign of nervousness.

“Our other—ah—patron?”

“The Stilladìa loathes the Seven. I think she might know more than all of us. If I were her, I would have already put everything into motion, so she will certainly not ask to check our notes.” Sandora bit her lip. What a joke. All of their power, all of the might of the Throne—and yet they were like scattered ants before an incoming monster.
“I always find it dangerous when someone confirms my thoughts word for word,” Basilio mused with a dry smile, his gaze lost somewhere else. “I had hoped you could give me any indication to think our worst fears might have been unfounded. But so be it!” He rose, his head just a couple inches away from brushing against the fabric ceiling. “The Stilladìa has indeed involved the Council, just a few days ago. She was courteous enough to warn the Emperor she might be borrowing a few of us.”

Sandora’s eyes went wide.

She did what?

“So, nevertheless, I truly hope your business is finished here, because I see full nights ahead for both.”
“I—” did the Stilladìa mention her personally?

Oh, and she had yet to find her quarter of an hour of sleep…

But no, the Stilladìa wouldn’t… unless! Unless her own involvement with Argia meant anything.
It seemed that girl was at the core of it all.

And if Ansàrra was behind it—or at least behind everything that happened with Argia, that might mean…
It was a mad, mad thought, but Sandora only took a few seconds to roll it inside her mind, polishing madness into the stone-set shape of necessity.

“Provide me with a marque of settlement from the Embassies to the Western Overseas,” she blurted, the idea affixed to her head already.

Her heart was beating so fast.

She had just been so content knowing she would be sticking it to the Dragon, but now she had her own students to care for.

And perhaps care for one she had even learned a thing or two from.
Basilio frowned, but did not interrupt her.

“The failed mission, just recently. And what happened with the Maduan envoy. Let me be the one to open a diplomatic channel. If I make it about Argia Candente, perhaps Ansàrra will let me in.”
The Written Wizard gawked at her words, then smiled, a fondness glinting in his eyes.
“Ah, see, Sandora Mirari? That is one thought I never would have had.”

[cont.]

go teach!

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>>6312663

# # # # # #

Rain.
It has been a while since you felt it pitter-patter its cold ghostly kisses upon your brow.

Perhaps the last time had been when you sparred with Willow in that cave.
With Master and Rubida and Soralisa.
Back when Willow’s name was still Salicera Fors.
Back when the world still made sense.
When all you needed was a straight path to your enemies.

“A safe place for my family would be a good starting point,” you mumble, raindrops playing with your lips as the world around you coalesces from mist and rain into a steep mountain pass amidst the crags. “And I would not mind an open path to my enemies, once again. I used to long just for that,” you add.
The Stilladìa is looking at you with an intrigued half-smile, her arms crossed over her slight chest.

“Can be easily arranged—”

You raise you hand to add something and she respectfully waits.

“But perhaps I would also need a more advanced way of protection. If this comes to pass—I doubt it will—what stops someone like Rosandra to just find our new nest and deliver her retribution?”

“I do,” she explains, splaying her fingers over her chest. “There is but two forces that can hinder me in this world: one of them is Ansàrra, who I doubt would have anything to say about the ultimate fate or happiness of a tool, once it has outgrown its uses. As for the other, I shall have to face it again thanks to your Strander friend, but I won’t be alone. So, unless you plan to hold a tea party with the Seven, you should be more than fine.” She purses her lips. “I’d wager three generations of safety.”

“No mention of Carnaval?”

“Carnaval likes you,” she retorts tilting her head. “She would never hurt you. If anything she would blame me and rope me into yet another of our fistfights.”
“Which you are sure you would win,” you try. It feels beyond dreamlike to be here, standing in her memories, teasing Saint Bragia.

“I lose most of them, in truth,” she chuckles. “You can stand on the shore, kick at the sea and claim to have beaten it. I suppose you could beat it for a day and a month and a year,” she explains. “Carnaval has spent decades by the sea, throwing tantrums at the ocean in front of her. She’s a dear, really; did I tell you I was the one who informed Carnaval of the location of the Well?”
“You—what? That’s a—”

Lie.

The Stilladìa looks at you with her usual self-pleased expression, and you picture yourself spending a few hours standing by the shore screaming and yelling at the waves.

“Now—anything else?”

“I still have yet to see all your memories,” you reply, holding up your hands. “I would still keep my faith in Ansàrra. And I am not sure anything you see would change my mind.”

“That is always up to you. Which is also amusing,” she adds, that same angry bitterness sneaking its way into her voice.

[cont.]

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>>6312668

No matter how carefree she pretends to be, it’s clear the old wound is still suppurating, like an ancient volcano that never stops spewing and spitting. “I also held on until the very end.”

The sadness coating her words drifts into your heart, like the first winter wind.

“Hold on to your jealousy, Argia Candente.”

The Stilladìa lowers her arms and the scene before you changes again.

A group of four people walking on the broken path turns the mountainside, as the freezing rain falls upon their coats.
Fra’ Catena is the one leading the group, holding up a vial of hallowed oils—like the one you saw Willow use to hide the Worm—but this one scatters a golden hue all about the black stones. Behind him is Bragia, squinting against the rain. Candeloro keeps his own raincoat over her, his blonde hair battered by the showers, and behind them Esta closes the queue, looking behind her with a sour expression.

“Are we close?” She asks, her voice ragged.

“Closer,” Bragia explains, her other hand over her chest. “I can feel her presence.”

At those words the entire group hesitates, looking around.

A far-off thunderbolt lights up the crags, to reveal scattered figures laying about like forgotten dolls.

They are all seemingly cast in the same black stone, licked polish by some unseen hand. All of them are holding each other by hand, and by something else, like…

You take a step back and cover your mouth with your hand.

“The Seven’s work is never pretty,” Lithala of the Night Lands mutters, her red gaze lingering over the twin figurines, bound by an umbilical cord that seems to writhe in the stormlight. “Though one could call it inventive.”

The image shifts again and you leave the group behind, focusing on the figures filling the ravines, as if discarded toys. All of them show a wide and thin grin, which shows a row too many of teeth. They have no eyes, covered as they are by some material similar to a shell…

“It reminds… reminds me of those I saw in the Well.”

“They are all sisters, so they tend to share a style. And a most questionable taste,” the Stilladìa adds, her lip curling. “You saw Celaeno’s dwelling. Each of them embodies a different aspect.” She pauses again and you hold your breath.
You have learned than when she pauses, it’s because of some important information she seems reluctant to share at first.
Her shoulders drop.
And she opens her mouth again.

“We were approaching the abode of the least of the Seven. Merope, the youngest. And her aspect was the Bind.” She turns to look at you, then clicks her tongue. “Remember this.”

“The Bind.”

She nods, and as she walks past the ravine the scene changes further—the path grows ever more distorted, the figures now appearing as if out of live rock, given shape by forces beyond your understanding.
Beyond what you want to understand.

[cont.]

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>>6312670

Sometimes, flashes appear of the four sharing the bear they carry: Fra’ Catena pulling Bragia past a broken hole in the path, Candeloro consulting home-made maps to decide which way to go, even Esta helping him gather what little wood they might find in this nightmare place to cook whatever food they have left.
You two walk around them, appearing and then disappearing in different points of the path, while their surroundings shed every aspect of a natural world and turn into a carved series of winding tunnels and geometric dead-ends, the joined dolls scattered all around.

“I am stringing together a journey of almost one month,” the Stilladìa explains. “I cannot show you every moment, and perhaps by now I do not even remember them…” she winces. “Some of these memories I have lost forever. I can show you what I have left.”

The mist descends once more—no rain this time, just the clear sky above them, the night with its mysteries. It seems Ansàrra’s sun is far far away from here, lost amidst the twinkling cold lights.
Huddled with the others, Bragia is resting her head against Candeloro. They are all covered in marks, bruises, scabbed wounds. Gaunt from the days spent out there.
It truly seems they were too far out for the Sun-Birther to reach. This was enemy territory.

Night was all around them.

You shudder, thinking of your time in the Well, when you came closest to the presence of the Seven.
Lithala glances at you, her mouth pulled in a half-smile, as if even she lost her words here.

“It gnaws at you from the inside,” she whispers. “Doesn’t it?”
“L-Like ants.”

Silence stretches between all of you—then, Bragia opens her mouth lost six hundred years in the past, and—

“The sea was still, no river streamed,
in ice grinding all land was ringed—

Next is Fra’ Catena, who grunts and resumes the hymn from where it was left over.

“The sky hung deaf and dark and cold,
when She first rose to bleed and toil.

And then Candeloro, joining his stark voice.

“Now minds be bright as words and deeds,”

“May gold pay heed to all your pleads—” you continue over him.

“Let every voice join to sing as one,
we raise our hands to greet Her sun…” murmurs Bragia, a faint smile now dawning on her lips. “Ansàrra is still here. She would never leave. She will hold us aloft until the end.”

Candeloro pulls her closer in an embrace from behind. Esta bites her lip, but still seems to enjoy what little comfort she can from the son and Bragia’s presence.

“Dry all tears shed, we break our bread
we dance as held in golden thread,” adds Fra’ Catena, who stands up and claps his hands, following the hymn’s rhythm. A tired but smiling Bragia also taps with her boots on the harsh stone surface, followed by the others.

[cont.]

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>>6312672

“We are almost there,” Bragia states, her hand rubbing against her chest. “Just behind the next corner.” She points where the rock bends at a steep angle. “Let us share one last drink of wine.”

They all raise a cup and share it together.
She notices it’s your time to wince at the sight of the red liquid.
“I—” that evening when Rubida invited you to share a drink and you explained why you would not.

The Stilladìa waits patiently for you to say something.
Or not.
She will accept it either way.
What a terrible thing to do.
Think with your own head.

“I have stopped drinking wine when our home was bought. I swore I would only ever drink after I had my family once more safe. I would only share it with them. And with my friends, now. And Master, of course. And Carnaval, I suppose. Rosandra, if she wants to… even the Asterite.”

A moment of silence stretches again.
And her?

Well, you are not sure if she would be invited, even now that you know the truth.
Perhaps you could leave a slice of cake for her… out of the door.
Inside a box.

“Not Astoria,” she says instead.

“No,” you agree. “Astoria can choke on it.” Your hand pulsates with pain as you try to instinctively clench it, then shudder at the jolt of pain.

“A snake sooner or later bites its own tail.”

It’s—disquieting—how she can sound like Master at times.
And then right like the embarrassed Knight you thought you knew.
You rub at your chest, where the phantom of the wound you suffered in the Well lingers—where you miss the weight of the cameo.

The comfort of a lie.

“Come on, Argia Candente. Let’s behold the head of the snake.”

The mists raise to show the group passing over the last corner and entering a lofty space, where slabs of geometric patterns slowly grind against each other. They help each other climb the shattered space and finally they reach a wide open hall, where the columns are made of stacked bodies, each glistening like mother of pearl, each tied to the next by the umbilical cord and by that inane grin and by that blind gaze.

Your body is seized by a shudder of refusal as you see the lonely woman laying in the middle of it. She is holding the body of a young girl, splayed like a goat, limbs stretched, and she pulls out her inside organs, licking them over with her stretched sneaky tongue. Where the pulsating length touches flesh, it turns to pearlescent matter, glistening maddeningly in the absence of light.

Your stomach churns.

[cont.]

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>>6312676

Bragia, the last to climb ahead, helped by Fra’ Catena and Candeloro as Esta is already setting herself in front of the brunette Knight, shares your disgust etched on her face.
The woman turns her head. She is far too beautiful to be looked upon with eyes, and even as you blink the perfection of her gorgeous face burns through your lids—her long black hair like ink, her umber smooth skin, her sinuous curves, the pure blue in her eyes.
Kiengir features, all of them.

Not broken, partial, seen from afar, imagined: live, here before you.
An incarnated Sister.

A-se.”

Her breathy word pierces memory and centuries and all the paltry defenses you thought you could muster. The Kiengir language rattles inside your head, squirming, changing not itself but your understanding, making itself at home like those other words did in the Well.
Like Ansàrra did, when she used your mouth to utter the words that shattered the rogue Asterite’s puppets.

Silla ane ga, She had said to you—through you. Pierce him.

You instinctively knew what She meant.
And just now you do the same again.

Oh!

Such delighted surprise.

Du-nabi zìl-ga taka?
Are you the one who will be given away?

If old Bragia has understood those words, she does not seem to care.
She raises her mace—a morningstar—and, without sharing any more words with the monster in front of her, charges ahead, past a screaming Esta, to deliver death and punishment.

The Sister—Merope, the least of the Seven—stands up from her work, blood congealing into tiny pearls as it falls down her sable skin.

Gùtesasì, she purrs.

Come here.
Those words carve their own shape inside your head. Your raise your hands to press against your ears but there are no ears deaf enough to block them, once spoken by Kiengir lips.
Come here.

You tighten the muscles of your legs, or you would feel compelled to obey.
Even through centuries.
Even through memories.
You grit your teeth, trying to hold onto Her warmth, Her presence, amidst an empty sky and cold emptiness.
Once again finding none.

“O-Our home is safe, its guardian strong…” you whisper, remembering the next verses in that hymn. Holding on to a ragged golden thread.

“Lo! No one treads…” comes another voice next to you. The Stilladìa, her pale face dour with sadness as she watches her past self rush towards her doom, sets her fingers against your arm. It’s the first time her skin touched your since you impaled her with Carnaval’s feather.

“… this road alone,” Lithala sighs.

[cont.]

>>6312680

remember when you weren't supposed to whip out a Sumerian dictionary when writing a silly quest on a Vietnamese basket weaver forum? Sunseeker remembers.

# # # # # #


By her third cup of wine, Rubida starts to think that perhaps this Knight of the Gerofalco is not such a bad guest.
She has yet to skin them both alive, at least.
Candente would be proud.

“There must be a way!” Pleads Soralisa, showing her more of her notes, her research, everything she has picked up over the past few cycles. “I can show you the rest of—”
“Cease,” she dismisses her just by raising a hand. Soralisa bites down a retort, her knees growing progressively weaker. “Argia Candente will not get out of her cell until the Trial, and the way she will walk past the marble dais will not be up to me at all. Nor any of your efforts. It is all in the hands of the Sun-Birther.”

“Hic,” Rubida agrees. “Uhm. Apologises.”

There was a time when she held her wine pretty well.
Must be the influence of that Candéan.
Curse her and her pretty eyes and her big, big heart.
And now she’s roped Soralisa in this big mess.
Her father will have her head on a plate.

“But we need her out of there! It’s not right! It must be that bitch Astoria, it’s her fault! Starless Night, why don’t you believe me?” She pulls at her hair. And she called Astoria a ‘bitch’.

More stuff Candente is responsible for.

Good job.

“If it may be of any comfort,” Rosandra hides the shade of a grin behind her bandaged hand, “I agree: Astoria di Ottava Ora is a wretched pile of resentment and a waste of skin. She would be of better use in the lavatories, where her skills would be more appreciated. But the time when we will find out how many inside organs she can miss and still be of use is not nigh.”

“So y-you believe me!”

“Every word. In fact, you have shown commendable insight.”

“Then why—I don’t—how—Rubida!” She shouts, calling for her help.
“Hic,” she replies. “Would you—hic—keep your voice down.” Wine sloshes in her cup. She would have wanted to share this cup with Argia Candente, when everything went finally right. For once. When she wasn’t alone in a cell, and she was here, and all their pretty plans had just been sent tits-up by a crazed inquisitor who should not even—exist!
According to official records, of course.

She downs the last of her fourth cup.

Then her hand fumbles around for the bottle.

“Rubida… please,” Soralisa murmurs, her eyes red and full of tears, most of them shed. Her hands still carry the signs of the miscast Sanction.
Sometimes, when Rubida is alone in her room and has too much time to think, she even wonders why the Sun-Birther allowed that Sanction to pass through her friend’s body.
Then she asks forgiveness and pardon for her wandering mind.And even now she’s a useless friend.

A waste of skin, that’s what.

[cont.]

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>>6312683

She should have warned Argia since that day at the Temple when they both went to speak with the Blessed Blind. She should have had…
The bottle slips between her fingers and it falls on the floor, sloshing back and forth.
Out of reach.
Starless Night.
When she raises her gaze, Rosandra is piercing her with her gaze. Brown eyes shouldn’t be that sharp, but somehow she makes it work, sitting like that on Soralisa’s chair, legs drawn to her chest like some kind of bandaged bird of prey.
“Your plan is well-intentioned, but I shall allow no communication to come to Ibardo Delebasse,” Rosandra declares. “Especially nothing that would disturb the Trial.”
“Yeah, well, wouldn’t want to ruin Astoria’s theatrics,” Rubida spits, bitter, bitter like the wine gurgling up her throat. At some time, it must have turned into vinegar. “She will have her puppet show, and everyone will be happy. Rosandra is right. We are just a couple of fools, both of us. The Trial has already been decided.”
The Inquisitor nods.

“Correct.”

It was not even Ansàrra’s idea to put her in that cell…
That was all Astoria’s ploy, nothing to do with the Sun-Birther.
Rubida blinks.
Blinks again.
Wait…
Wait wait wait.
Didn’t she use to be brilliant with this sort of thing?
With this—
It’s her province after all.

Anthilian or not, she has always been proud of her wits.
The outcome of this has been decided already, yes, but…
There is something she can do.
Animated by some energy that might be the blessing of Ansàrra or just the wine getting ready to spill out of her guts, she points her finger at Rosandra, who knits her eyebrows the same way a soldier in armour might do when a couple of gnats declares war upon him.
“What about this—”

>devise a way to get Rosandra to help you. Pay attention to this last part of the update, especially.

First goal should be to inform Ibardo and ask for his help

Next goal to perhaps ask for her own direct involvement

Stretch goal: let you two visit Argia in her cell!

>Important info: no matter what there is no stopping the Trial itself. This is the province of the Sun-Birther.

>Important info #2: this conversation is happening right about the time the Stilladìa has brought food to Argia and has noticed the cameo (so the tail end of Thread #6)


this update got stupidly long and difficult to write at times. I hate it. I love it. I hope you love it as well. Thanks for playing! I will be available for questions throughout

>>6312685
If the only thing preventing her from helping us is tempering with the trial, we can change our message so that master can help us do something outside that

>>6312685

in case this wasn't clear enough:

>Rubida is the bard of the team
>put together a plan with your social skills
>vote on it
>see what happens next update(s)

good luck (also you are drunk)

>>6312685
I have no idea what to do here to enable it, but I wonder if we can't find a way to force the Blessed Blind and other officiants to, in their piety, pray for the Sun-Birther to deliver "the sanction which Argia Candente most deserves" or something along those lines? Maybe we could sneak that line into Master Delebasse and he could force them to phrase it that way or admit to a lack of faith/piety/deference?

>>6312749
>I have no idea what to do here to enable it
Simplest answer would be to just straight up invite her along, so she can ensure that we keep things "above board", Problem solved. She's already said she can't be convinced so there isn't really an argument to be made as it isn't up for debate.

If she says no, just split up she can only be in one place at once.

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Rubida's drunken fantasy

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>>6312688
always...

>>6312766
>>6312749

interesting suggestion anon

>"the sanction which Argia Candente most deserves"

intriguing

>invite her along

if you find a good reason for it, Rosandra might actually take your suggestion(s). keep in mind though that while praying for a Sanction is in fact an intriguing idea, it sort of retreads the ground of the Trial itself.

but the intuition behind it (to separate Astoria from the Trial) might have merit.

>>6312787
damn, the 'always' was meant for this pic/post. sorry, I might be drunk as well.

>>6312749
>Maybe we could sneak that line into Master Delebasse and he could force them to phrase it that way or admit to a lack of faith/piety/deference?
They could also ask him to enter into contact with carnaval so she can help with something else:
>Stretch goal: let you two visit Argia in her cell!
Especially since the Amaranthines can't do anything but seethe about the angel of carnaval coming and going to Argia's cell.
That's assuming he can enter into contact or that Carnaval is visiting him periodically.
>>6312787
Rubida's drunken fantasies are purer than I thought.

>>6312766
I think the idea is less convincing Rosandra to help and more "come up with a plan that passes by Rosandra's endorsement" so she won't be inclined to stop them in their tracks. That means Rubida's plan can not interrupt the trial from happening or include taking Argia away from her cell.
>If she says no, just split up she can only be in one place at once.
they weren't even aware that Rosandra was inside the same room as them, splitting them up won't do anything but probably amuse her for a few minutes before catching up, what they need is for Rosandra to not disapprove of whatever plan Rubida comes up with.
>Simplest answer would be to just straight up invite her along, so she can ensure that we keep things "above board",
That seems like the best option actually, Rubida could appeal for Rosandra if she couldn't take the role of their manipolo's "martial chaplain" again (in reality she will just be chaperoning Rubida and Soralisa from doing anything that would force her hand to intervene)
>>6312688
>If the only thing preventing her from helping us is tempering with the trial, we can change our message so that master can help us do something outside that
Yeah, what was preventing her from helping is that Rubida and Soralisa were likely planning on having master interfere on the trial (maybe even prevent it from happening at all by busting Argia out), Rosandra is asking them to be realistic here and not encourage her to do her job and stop them.

>>6312865
+1
Sounds good.

Nice chapter sun!

>>6312865
>>6312875

interesting ideas.
if you can't interrupt the Trial perhaps you could try to create a different plan.

as of now we have two votes for:

>sneakily find a way for Astoria or the Amaranthines to display lack of piety (hard, but YUGE if it works) and trying to ask intercession from Carnaval through Master.

This just to jot down notes and keep focus, I am not automatically endorsing this line of action.

>>6312888

>praises
>on trips of 8s

thanks anon! I'm glad you like it and the next ones will be even better (well, worse)

>>6312787
For those wondering where I got this, I got it from a mediocre manhwa called The Red Knight Seeks No Reward.

>>6312829
>>6312897
Well my (>>6312749) thinking was we should find a way to get the Blinds to do so in the actual trial. Then, rather than molten gold killing her, Ansàrra either essentially has to choose to kill her by her own action (dooming any chance of reconciliation with Stilly/Lithala/Bragia, who will see Sunmommy kill a sweet young fangril who reminds her so much of herself) or step in and save Argia (proving her virtue to the Evil Anime Church).

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>>6312912

Ansàrra's choice has already been made, it has been made since the very beginning, (and the Stilladìa expects Ansàrra to abandon Argia to her destiny. Keep in mind that it was never said anywhere that the Quest was supposed to have a good ending), though the rest of the suggestion , which is to focus on Astoria and the others, might allow you more wriggle room.

>Evil Anime Church

but it gives you farmland and state-mandated erufu for procreation anon...

Overall I seem to perceive a plan taking form, perhaps just needs a little push.

There's still about 20 hours for voting, so think it through.

Meanwhile, please enjoy the full song on a single page.

>>6313019


>Keep in mind that it was never said anywhere that the Quest was supposed to have a good ending

That leaves hanging threads with Willow, the return of Merope though, and would probably cast significant doubt on the "purity" of the rest of the Manipolo, Rosandra's capability and Master by association I don't see Ansarra worsening her position outright for no apparent gain outside the sending of a message 600 years in the making.

Sure it might not end well, but I really don't see it ending with the completion of the trial.

>>6313019
>Ansàrra's choice has already been made
If her motivation is to persuade Stily that she isn't so bad and that she should come home, then I hope her pre-made decision isn't to kill Bragia 2.0 in front of the original's very eyes in a horrifying way after bringing them together and making them sympathetic to one another.

>>6313028
One can only hope and pray, anon.

>>6313036
>One can only hope
I have a sinking feeling we're well beyond that now.

>Spoiler
To whom would be the question, though Ansarra might not be listening, but Apostacy at this point isn't such a great idea.

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writing new update shortly. happy birthday to this place, by the way.

glad to be here with you all, anon.

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>>6312685

The soft touch of the Stilladìa on your right arm stops you from raising your offended hand, so you cover your eyes with your left.

Esta jumps forward, her red hair burning like a flame as she unsheathes a long brazen staff off her back and jumps forward, ahead of Bragia who glances at her with a sudden bout of fear in her eyes.

She opens her mouth to scream, but it’s the Lithala standing next to you who speaks.

“Ode to the Four Winds. Esta could never fully control it.”
You do not have time to ask what it might be—the Stilladìa’s memories explain by themselves as the redhead Strander raises her staff over her head and a crackling thunder blasts in blue sparkles all over its length.
The Sister’s blue eyes are darker and yet they seem to shine brighter.
Ge, zulili!
How amusing!

She does not even raises a hand, just tilts a corner of her mouth in a sneer: Esta’s mad dash crashes upon her figure with a thunderous toll, a flash of white-blue light like the god of all storms crushing Merope under its might.
You squint, and when you open your eyes—Esta’s brass staff is melted, she is holding its shuddering half in her hand, as Merope stands without even one of her hair getting out of place.
Rather, Esta’s skin has scorched and blackened, smoking with heat. She opens her broken lips to mutter.
“W-Why… is it me who… got…”
“Esta!” Bragia shrieks.
Her current self, next to you, frowns, her pale face drawn in an expression of sorrow.
Esta falls on her back, the staff rolling out of her shaking hand.
“I did not ask your friend, Willow Stark, if she wanted a contract with me,” the Stilladìa sighs. “That mostly because her Strander abilities were so underwhelming. I would have had no use for her, no matter how burning her desire.” A pause. “Now I wonder if I made a grave mistake.”


You try to step forward, to reach for the smoking figure of Esta, to comfort her as if such a thing were possible.

Her eyes search for Bragia, who is immediately over her, forgetful of her anger, her fury, her hand reaching out for the patches where Esta’s skin is still rosy and not blistered, cooked, broken.

[cont.]

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>>6313449

“I—I…” Bragia shivers.

“We will take care of her,” Fra’ Catena says, coming closer and gently picking up Esta’s figure, as Candeloro helps him by keeping her steady, already reaching into his backpack for vials of hallowed oils to help her wounds. “You do what you were made for,” he says, tilting his head towards the Sister, who has not moved an inch, still looking at them like a handful of ants performing for her delight.

His words strike something inside you.

“What you were made for?” You ask, shifting your gaze between the Stilladìa in her present form and her past one.

“Since the beginning,” she replies. “Since the first time a black, six-fingered hand pulled me out of the broken ruins of my old home. The gilded spider knows how to be patient.”

A scream makes you jolt.

Bragia raises her head from where it hangs, her grip on her weapon growing stronger.

That Kiengir gaze that’s like having your thoughts painted over with blue varnish shifts to her mace.

Alala! Tukùl.
Look at you. Morningstar.

And Bragia, weapon held up on high, dashes ahead once more. This time, nobody steps ahead of her, to stop her, to protect her, to hinder her.
Merope, the incarnated Kiengir, opens her arms to welcome Ansàrra’s most loved child.

Ge-nammàda.
Come with me.

[cont.]

>>6313451

# # # # # #


“…hic.”
Rubida is sure she was about to make a great point.
Soralisa looks at her with hope in her brown eyes, while the much more severe ones of the Knight of Gerofalco scrutinize her form.

“Apologies. I am quite—quite drunken right now.”

“I shall not hold it against you,” Rosandra sighs. “You were supposed to become a Sunwell Knight, if I am not mistaken. In the heat of the drunken dance you would have neared the Sun-Birther to us. But I shall not entertain—”

“Hiccup—” she interrupts her again. “S-Sorry. Now… actually I was going to say something.”

It was right there on the tip of her tongue.
Hard to remember right now.
Ah, if only Candente was there with her to hold her hand and to spur her in the right direction. She always seems to know what to say even when she does not know what to say and when she makes a fool of herself—
A fool.

A fool of herself…

Wait a moment.

“H-Hey,” she says, raising her gaze from the empty glass and towards Rosandra. “So, correct me if I’m—hic—am wrong, and correct me with a knife in my throat if necessary—” Soralisa gasps but she continues. She hasn’t spent all those months next to Argia Candente, beholding her inane courage, her bravery and her beauty, to back up now. “—but it seems to me Astoria di Ottava Ora is trying to smear her dirty paws all over the work of the Sun-Birther.”

Rosandra’s eyes widen just a tad and silence falls in the room, as thin and as black as the first winter ice.

“…hhip!” Rubida hiccups.


a grave accusation!

>>6313452

# # # # # #

You wince, feeling the strength of Bragia’s strike through your feet. It echoes up your spine and on the Stilladìa’s hand, which jerks at reviewing the memory.
Bragia, crying, her mouth set in a mute scream, pierces the Sister’s sable skin with her weapon.

The body of Merope crumples like a damp tent. It flounders in soft arms and legs, pouring on the floor, motionless.

Those blue eyes close forever.

Bragia pulls out her mace, dripping black ichor.

She turns to regard the other, panting, her slight chest rising and falling—Esta laying on the ground, Fra’ Catena holding his hands over her body, a soft golden glow spreading over Esta as Ansàrra’s Will heals her self-inflicted wound.
Right away.
No question asked. Your stomach twists at the expected and bountiful help…

Candeloro shares a confused look with Bragia, his black eyes with her olive ones. He marvels at the broken corpse of one of the Seven, laying there punctured like a balloon.

Bragia looks at her weapon, at the Sister, and shakes her head.
It appears, you think, that a victory is still a victory.
She crouches in front of her fallen enemy and pulls out a knife. With a grim expression on her face, she starts to cut Merope’s beautiful head.
“Is—is that over?” You ask. You are not sure if you are asking her, or yourself.
Or the emptiness above you where Ansàrra used to reside.

But—

It was far quicker than you believed.
“The beginning,” she answers, withdrawing her hand and rubbing them together in a sorrowful look. “The beginning is over.”

[cont.]

>>6313454

# # # # # #

“Speak plainly, Rubida dell’Obertengo. Or not at all, and I can resume my watch over more important matters.”
“I just thought—” she opens her mouth, trying to move her tired, thick tongue. What is she trying to say? Focus. Sun-Birther guide her words… “That isn’t it a bit strange how Astoria led our Manipolo for eight months, and never once she thought about Argia being an agent of the Adversary?”
Soralisa’s mouth curls in a surprised ‘o’.
“T-That’s right! She saw it right away during our training! Remember? On the first day when you noticed Argia and I talking, and the Blessed Blind was there. Yes, she was there.”
“So that means she had no reason not to act right away—hic!—if her goal was just…”
“I am aware of the political machinations of Astoria, child,” Rosandra states. “It is a most sad fact that not even the light of the Sun-Birther has managed to weed out every grain of dross in Madua. Mannish spirit remains as it ever was, bent enough no straight shape can be made out of it. Nevertheless, it is naught before the Will of the Sun-Birther.”
Rubida grins as the puzzle—desperate as it is—sets inside her mind.
She must as Soralisa what kind of wine this is.
She will buy a couple bottles to share with Candente, when all this is over.Oh, they are all going to see another dawn. All together.
Even Willow, as despicable as she is.
Rubida points her right index at Rosandra, swings it back and forth a few times and then slowly lowers towards her once more.
“… eeexactly.”

[cont.]

>>6313455

# # # # # #

The Stilladìa’s memories do not linger too long in the horrifying chamber where Merope was slain. They shift like mist and you look at the group of four walking downhill, Fra’ Catena at the rear, Esta’s body resting on his shoulders as he carries her. She breathes softly and from time to time tosses a sad look at the two figures walking ahead.

Candeloro is walking with Bragia at his right. She holds the head of Merope inside a wrapped cloth.

“It’s over,” Bragia murmurs. “It’s finally over. We will show this at the first town we find, and we can let know the entire Holy Land that the Seven can die as well. Die for good.”

“Yes,” the her blonde companion agrees, but there is a moment of hesitation, as if he wants to say something else.

“Please not now,” Bragia pleads, searching for his hand and taking it in her own. “We have all the time to argue over what happened. You can discuss it with your philosopher colleagues all you want. I just want… I just want to go back to Ansàrra and let Her know we gained our victory.” A fond smile spreads. “I wonder if she still remembers that little cameo I gave Her…”

Candeloro bites the inside of his mouth, sighs and runs his hand through her brown locks.

“Whatever you want. Runt.”

Bragia giggles, such a relieved sound it pulls at your own heart.
“Thank you. I don’t know what I would do without you,” she adds, squeezing his hand.
“Bore yourself to death,” he says setting a kiss on her cheek.
“And when we come back—when this is over—didn’t we say six?” Bragia asks with a hopeful grin, letting go of his hand for a moment to cover her belly.
“We did, Lithala,” he reassures her with another kiss, this time on her lips.
“Bragia,” she reminds him, joining their hands again. “And from now on, we will forever walk in Her sun.”

Ah—
You connect this to the vision you had, it feels so much time ago.
Back when Bragia had stated she did want six kids to raise.
To birth with her body.
Brown-haired, green-eyed.
You regard the Stilladìa, looking at the two lovers walk downhill. Her pale, pale, pale arm oozes blinding un-light from its cracks as she brushes her hand against her own stomach, her fingers splayed, black nails glistening like ink.
Her platinum lips tight—
Her crimson gaze burning like torches in the middle of night.
“And the end, Argia Candente, starts now.”

[cont.]

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>>6313456

# # # # # #


“The Trial will—hic—will go on. I am personally sad it came to this, but all it is in the hands of Ansàrra,” Rubida continues. “There never was any doubt about this.”
Her eyes shift towards Soralisa.
Wonder, though—
When that Sanction coursed through her body… was it…

No.

No, she has to stay focused on what matters now.

She trusts the Sun-Birther.
She would not abandon Argia.

Now, that Astoria filth is a completely different matter.

“But if I have to see my—my best friend and leader! Leader of our Manipolo incarcerated because of some wretched politician who is using her suffering to her own ends, well I will not sit down!” She shouts. "Let them pray to the Sun-Birther and see if they don't catch flame, with their machinations!" Rubida pulls herself upright.
Mostly upright.

Hard to say—the room is swinging too hard.

“We will not—hic—interfere with the Trial anymore. This is just about Astoria’s own machinations! But… let Candente’s Master know she is in grave danger, let Carnaval help! And please… please let us see her,” Rubida begs.

Rosandra sets her chin on her bandaged hand, tilting her head in thought.

>Roll! Please roll a 1d100, Bo6
>You have two degrees of success: a partial success with 60 or more, and a complete success with 90 or more.
>After all rolls have been cast, you can reroll the lowest score ONCE.
>dubs and trips and whatnot still apply

good luck, anon

Rolled 78 (1d100)

>>6313457
Things can only get worse right?

Rolled 38 (1d100)

>>6313457
Well if this fails we can blame it on Rubida throwing up on Rosandra's feet and dooming Argia for it.
>>6313456
The fact Lithala reminded Candeloro to call her Bragia makes this all the sadder, she really loved Ansàrra, even the number of kids was in homage to sunmommy..
damn esta kept stacking loss after loss, first bragia denies the whole "I can protect you bit" during their bout, then she gets nearly burned to a crisp by Merope playing a reverse on Esta's powers and that's without counting the whole bit about Bragia's death, physically and metaphorically.
Stranders have no luck in this world I swear.

Rolled 61 (1d100)

>>6313457

Rolled 72 (1d100)

>>6313457

>>6313488
72 + 18 (dubs) is 90- right?

>>6313457
>>6313502
indeed

Rolled 85 (1d100)

>>6313556
c'mon

>>6313488
>rolls a dubs of 8
>scores just enough to guarantee complete success

it seems dice keeps getting loaded, though this time it might be by the Stilladìa's hand...

last roll missing, let's see if you get a crit.

>>6313586
Was there supposed to be a roll here?

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>>6313589
no, I am not rolling anything for this specific post

I wonder if Silver Knight Quest will see another 4chan birthday

>>6313457

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>>6313604

Was that a roll? You must write it like that in the Options roll:

dice+1d100

Rolled 21 (1d100)

>>6313457
>>6313620

I can make a roll if that's what's holding us up.

The Sun still shines, even at Night.

>>6313620
Must have caps locked my bad.

>>6313623
thanks anon

>>6313632

nevermind, your roll reached us in spirit

>on Page 2 already

AIEEEE say it ain't so

update in a few hours, hopefully when I come back from work.

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>>6313488
>>6313457

>Full success on DUBS of 8s of all things

anon playing with forces beyond our comprehension

and now, the news…

# # # # # #

“The first of the Seven is dead!” shouts Bragia Lacresta, addressing the crowd. The unwraps the wizened head she is holding in her hands and raises it high, as every man woman and child in the audience draws a collective gasp, many holding up the middle three fingers of their hands as a protective sign, invoking the presence of the Sun-Birther to shield them from the corpse of the Sister.

Merope’s head is already starting to wither to dust.

Bragia’s slender chest heaves, her eyes monitoring the crowd. You see Candeloro standing besides the low-lipped well in the middle of the village. He crosses his arms, looks above at the darkening sky, and then at his beloved again. He seems deep in thought, troubled even in victory.
You look for her other two companions but cannot see them amidst the crowd.

“Your chains are broken, and you will have nothing to fear from now on! The Seven Sisters can be killed!” She raises her voice to a joyous shrill.
Glancing at the preset-time Bragia, you see her lower her head, as if in shame, her white hair covering her face like a curtain. “Give your all to the Sun-Birther, for it is thanks to Her that we can now face the future with shining hope! It was thanks to Her that my mace fell straight and true! Let’s all raise our hands in prayer for—”

The Stilladìa moves her fingers and the scene changes one again. When you try to look at her face, you find her livid, her lips tightened, her free hand clenched so hard her knuckles shake.

“My apologies, Argia Candente. I just wish not to linger on the fool that I used to be.”

“You truly loved Ansàrra,” you mutter, your healthy hand rising to knead your arm. “It is hard to watch, I agree—” the difference between the smiling, brave and joyful Bragia, so full of faith and hope for the future and the graven visage next to you reminds you of a waxen mask, carved from pain and loss.
And betrayal.
Your hand pulsates with pain.
Ansàrra rejected you hard enough to burn your hand to a suppurating black crisp. What does that say about your chances at the Trial?

What does that say about whatever chances there might be for Willow?
For your family?

[cont.]

>>6313784

The mists shape themselves into something different now.
It’s the inside of a house, similar to the one you and your friends were put into when you recovered from the Well.
The same village at the window—it’s almost evening.

Fra’ Catena is helping Bragia with a dress, a white linen robe that highlights her svelte curves and her tanned skin. It’s criss-crossed with thin old scars, the signature of a life spent on the field. Fighting for Ansàrra.
The light in Bragia’s olive eyes is soft, tired, and glows with grateful warmth.
Fra’ Catena’s large hands give her shoulders a soft squeeze.

“How do you feel?” He asks with that low rumble of a voice. “Everything alright?”
“Hollow,” she replies, “even if Ansàrra is with me. I can feel Her gladness. I feel—uhnnn,” she groans as she rubs her eyes.
Fra’ Catena stiffens.

“Are you sure you are alright?”

“Yes, yes. Starless Night,” she swears, blinking quickly. “My eyes sting. I must be so tired.”

“The worst is behind us,” her old master says, and she nods. After a while, she smiles away.
“I surely hope so! Ah, now I have a full night of dancing ahead… I just want to melt in his embrace.”

The smile on the battle friar’s large face tightens into a wistful line.

“You should enjoy it. You surely have earned it.”

Bragia nods, making her soft brown locks wave.

“Is Esta feeling better?”
“Yes, though not enough to dance or perhaps even walk. Her wounds will take some time to heal, even to the Sun-Birther.”
“I should probably go and help then…”

“…yes. Later. For now, it’s important you enjoy your night with the others,” he stresses.

“Are you treating me like your old pupil?” She smirks, her dark eyebrow knitting. “After killing the Worm I sure hoped I could earn some proper respect,” she jokes, puffing out whatever there is of her slight chest. “As a Knight and Ansàrra’s very own Archiater. We have just rid the world of its worst predator! Now, why should I listen to you, old, portly man?”
The she pulls him into a hug, however she can, with her low stature allowing her to only reach up to his chest.

[cont.]

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>>6313787

“Portly sounds like something you would say, alright,” he chuckles, even if you distinctly feel a sad tinge in his voice. He withdraws. “It has been the greatest honour, Bragia Lacresta. To see you grow and develop into this beautiful young woman. Now—now go out and have fun with your beloved.”

“We aren’t…” she blushes and looks away, coiling a strand of hair around her finger. “We are still on a mission, if one were to—”

“Listen to your old teacher. Go out there and think bright thoughts. Besides, it’s obvious you two are so much in love with each other. I swear you two must have given me some heart condition Ansàrra healed at least three times over by now!”
“Certainly not a guts condition,” Bragia retorts by tapping his belly, but she chuckles, even as the blush creeps up her cheeks. “But I will! Just let me…” she picks up her morningstar and, sticking her tongue out, manages to find a way to tie the belt around her new robe, securing it at her side.

“Is that the proper way for a lady to go out and dance?”

“It’s the proper way for a Knight!” She answers, raising her finger to the sky. “Do you stop being a servant of the Sun-Birther at any time of the day?”
“I suppose not. All it is as it has been decided,” he replies. Hesitates. One of his hands leaves his side, as if he wanted to reach out—

He lets it drop.

It’s strange, to you. This whole scene reminds you of Master, but not the way Fra’ Catena seems to hold something within. Master had never lied to you.
He had always been upfront, sometimes even more than necessary—
There is something that does not sit right with you here.

“Go, Bragia. Enjoy every moment.”
“I will see you later at the festival then!”

“I wouldn’t miss it,” he replies with a nod.
Bragia pulls up the hem of her dress and walks out, closing the door behind her just in time to see him raise his hand to cover his face.

pic related is an almost perfect Bragia, besides the pointed ears

>>6313788

“Was he ill?” You ask at the Stilladìa.
At some point during the latest recollection, she has sat on the ground and has pulled her knees against her chest, hugging herself.

“Not by his own fault.”

“I do not understand.”

“Neither did I.”

She lets out a thin exhale and in the silence between you it sounds like a hiss. Your offended hand jerks gently towards her head.

To comfort—
Perhaps?
You have no idea.
This is still the Adversary…

…but that word seems like something you heard once in a poem, or in a half-remembered dream you walked ere the dawn, as the short and lithe figure next to you grinds her knees against her slender knees, bits her lips, her whiny pupils casting a faint glow on her cheeks.

The five lonesome stars float amidst her horns, forming the same inverted star, the points of the five-lobed flower that’s her symbol.

She looks wizened and completely alone, a withered tree on the edge of a cliff.
You sit down next to her.

Do not take her hand—even if the thought of holding Saint Bragia’s hand still sends happy sparks up your chest—but you just wait besides her.
She pulled you up from the ground back in the cell. Has yet to do you any violence— and tried to talk to you on level ground.

So, while you would not forgive the Adversary, you can perhaps sit and listen with Lithala of the Night Lands.

And you both watch as a gleeful Bragia Lacresta runs off into the open grass in the middle of the Maduan village, and runs straight into the arms of the tall man waiting for her, squeezing him into an embrace.

There’s light, and cheer, and music.
Everyone is holding a beeswax candle and singing or dancing or clapping his hands—and the two lovers hold each other just besides the well.
And the dance can begin.

Next to you, the Stilladìa’s whimper scours down your spine.

[cont.]

I have wanted to write this specific storyline for at least five years, so being able to gives me a special feeling. Thanks for playing, anon.