Mother of Midnight

Chapter 79 – Assigned

After outlining the basics of the printing press—its mechanisms, the principles of movable type, and the materials it required—Vivienne watched as Mizzra scribbled furiously into a thick ledger, her quill scratching like a busy insect. The goblin’s enthusiasm was infectious, and Vivienne could tell her mind was already racing with possibilities.

"You’ve given me plenty to chew on, Vivienne,” Mizzra said, looking up with a wide grin. “This could be the start of something big, mark my words. I’ll reach out to some of my sisters, and we’ll see what we can whip up.”

Vivienne nodded, satisfied. "I’ll leave it in your capable hands. Just keep me informed—I’ll be curious to see how things develop.”

Mizzra gave her a sharp salute with the quill. “Oh, you’ll be the first to know. And don’t be a stranger, eh? This place could use more customers with ideas like yours.”

“I think i need to actually buy something to be a customer, Mizzra.” Vivienne smiled warmly before stepping out of the shop. Renzia stood a few paces from the entrance, her rigid frame casting an odd but comforting shadow across the cobbled street. She was utterly still, her doll-like head tilting slightly toward Vivienne as though awaiting orders.

“I think I might find some different street food,” Vivienne said, stretching her arms overhead as if to shake off the weight of their conversation. “Then perhaps take it back so Kivvy and Rava have something to eat as well.”

Renzia tilted her head the other way, her movements as mechanical and deliberate as ever. Though she didn’t respond verbally, the slight shift in her stance suggested a silent acknowledgment.

The streets had grown busier since Vivienne first wandered through them, with vendors calling out their wares and the warm, enticing smells of grilled meats and spiced pastries wafting through the air. She took a moment to survey the bustling scene, her sharp eyes picking out a cart further down the street where smoke rose from a sizzling grill.

“Pokopoko skewers again?” she mused aloud, glancing at Renzia as if expecting an answer. “No, let’s see if there’s something different this time.”

Her bare feet made no sound on the cobblestones as she strode toward the stall. The vendor, a stocky human with sun-weathered skin and a thick beard, was turning over cuts of meat on a flat griddle, their rich aroma already drawing a small crowd.

“Ah, miss!” the vendor called, his voice brightening automatically at the sight of a potential customer. But his words faltered for a beat as his eyes took in Vivienne’s unusual appearance—the sharp claws, her unnervingly dark eyes, and the faint aura of something other. Still, years of street trade had honed his instincts, and he quickly plastered on a practiced, if slightly stiff, smile. “What can I get for you today? We’ve got hot pies, grilled redfin sausages, and fried karnok ribs fresh off the bone!”

Vivienne stepped closer to the stall, the faintest smirk tugging at her lips as she noted his initial hesitation. She tapped a clawed finger against her chin, the gesture light and contemplative. “Let’s try the karnok ribs. I’ll take three,” she said, her tone almost playful. “And maybe six of those sausages too.”

The vendor’s hands moved swiftly, falling into the familiar rhythm of preparing food. His nervous energy ebbed slightly as the exchange became routine. The sound of sizzling meat and the aroma of charred spices filled the air, and Vivienne let herself enjoy the simple pleasure of it. She smiled faintly—food had a way of bridging gaps, even ones as wide as hers.

“Oh,” she added casually, her voice cutting through the crackle of the grill. “Do you have anything a bit… bloodier?”

The vendor froze, one brow arching high. “Uh, like… lightly cooked?” he ventured cautiously, his eyes flicking to hers as if he hoped he’d misheard.

“Raw,” Vivienne clarified with a faint shrug. “The fresher, the better.”

His hands stilled for just a moment before resuming their work, though his motions were a touch less sure. “I, uh… suppose I might have something,” he murmured, his voice quieter now, as though unsure how to handle the request. He turned and rummaged beneath the counter, eventually pulling out a small bundle of fresh, glistening cuts wrapped in paper. “How much of it do you want?”

“How much are the ribs and sausages?” Vivienne asked, her tone easy, as though they were discussing nothing out of the ordinary.

“The sausages are eight copper each, the ribs a silver,” he replied automatically, though his gaze lingered uneasily on her sharp, inhuman features.

Vivienne reached into her purse, pulling out a gleaming gold coin. She held it out to him between two clawed fingers. “Give me a few cuts of your freshest meat, and you can keep the change.”

The vendor’s eyes widened, and his fear gave way to startled gratitude. “You’re… very gracious, my lady!” he stammered, his voice almost reverent. He quickly wrapped the raw cuts in an additional layer of paper and added them to the parcel with the ribs and sausages.

As he handed over the bundle, he hesitated for a fraction of a second, his gaze flitting between the gold coin and Vivienne’s calm, otherworldly expression. He bowed slightly, murmuring, “Thank you, truly. This will help more than you know.”

Vivienne accepted the bundle with a faint, knowing smile, the coin glinting as it changed hands. "You're welcome," she said smoothly, her voice as warm as it was composed.

The vendor straightened, his smile still tinged with unease as he watched Vivienne untie the bundle. She handled it with care, peeling back the layers of paper to reveal the raw cuts of meat glistening in the sunlight.

Without hesitation, Vivienne lifted one of the raw cuts to her mouth. Her jaw opened unnaturally wide, revealing rows of sharp teeth gleaming faintly in the light. She bit down with a swift, efficient motion, tearing the flesh cleanly before swallowing the chunk in one deliberate gulp. A faint hum of satisfaction escaped her, and she reached for the next piece.

“Ah! This does still have aether in it. Fantastic.” Said Vivienne happily, licking some blood from her lips.

The vendor stood frozen, his eyes widening as he watched her repeat the motion with the remaining cuts, each one vanishing into her maw with startling speed. Her movements were smooth, almost graceful, but the sheer alien efficiency of it made the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. He glanced around, as though seeking reassurance from the crowd, but most passersby seemed oblivious to the quiet spectacle.

Vivienne finished the last piece and wiped her hands lightly on the paper, folding it neatly before tucking it back into the bundle with the cooked food. She looked up at the vendor, her dark eyes meeting his startled gaze.

“Delicious,” she said warmly, as though she hadn’t just devoured raw meat in front of him. “Thank you for the meal.”

The vendor swallowed hard, forcing a stiff smile to his lips. “I, uh… I’m glad it… met your expectations,” he stammered, his voice cracking slightly. He fidgeted with the hem of his apron, clearly at a loss for words.

Vivienne tilted her head slightly, her expression unreadable but not unkind. “You’ve been most helpful. Have a good day,” she said with a nod, her tone polite but final.

As she turned and walked away, the vendor exhaled a shaky breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. He watched her retreating figure, her casual stride belying the unsettling display he’d just witnessed.

“Well,” he muttered to himself, shaking his head and trying to focus on the gold coin still clutched in his hand, “gold’s gold, I suppose…”

Vivienne and Renzia strode through the bustling streets, the enticing aroma of the cooked sausages and ribs wafting from the neatly wrapped bundle in her hands. Renzia, as always, followed in her silent, mannequin-like fashion, her movements precise and almost too fluid at times, drawing the occasional curious glance from passersby.

The guards at the clanhall gates barely acknowledged Vivienne as she approached. Their once-stiff posture and wary eyes had softened over the past few days, their unease dulled by her regular comings and goings. One even offered a slight nod, a gesture of recognition rather than respect, as he stepped aside to let her pass.

Vivienne smirked faintly. It seemed her initial notoriety was fading. The whispers of "the monster woman" that had once rippled through the air like a tide of fear were now quieter, less tinged with terror. She wasn’t sure whether to find it amusing or disappointing. A small part of her relished the instinctive fear her presence could inspire; another part appreciated that life might be smoother without every pair of eyes glued to her every move.

The clanhall’s interior was lively, with the familiar hum of voices echoing in the corridors. It was a stark contrast to the quiet of the city streets she’d walked earlier. People bustled about, their steps purposeful as they moved between rooms. Vivienne could hear the faint clatter of cookware and the soft murmur of conversation from deeper inside the hall.

“Rava and Kivvy should still be around,” she mused aloud, glancing over her shoulder at Renzia. The mannequin offered no response, merely tilting her head slightly as though processing the words. Vivienne rolled her eyes affectionately and continued down the hall, her senses attuned to the sounds of familiar voices.

She didn’t have to search long. Turning a corner, she spotted Kivvy seated on the floor near a low table, a wooden bowl of what looked like stew resting in her lap. Rava was nearby, her sharp gaze scanning the room with the air of someone perpetually assessing her surroundings. Both looked up as Vivienne approached, their eyes flicking to the bundle in her hands.

“Back already?” Rava asked, her tone neutral but with a flicker of curiosity.

“And bearing gifts,” Vivienne replied, holding up the bundle with a grin. “I thought you might like something a little more substantial than whatever you’ve been scrounging up in here.”

Kivvy’s eyes widened as she caught the scent of the sausages, her nose twitching. “Is that... meat? Real, cooked meat?” she asked, practically bouncing to her feet.

Vivienne laughed, a low, melodic sound. “Indeed it is. Karnok ribs and redfin sausages, fresh from the market.” She unwrapped the bundle slightly to let the savory aroma escape, causing Kivvy to sniff the air appreciatively.

Rava crossed her arms, her expression unreadable but her gaze fixed on the food. “You didn’t have to do this,” she said, though there was no mistaking the faint appreciation in her tone.

“I know,” Vivienne replied easily, setting the bundle on the table. “But I wanted to. Besides, it’s not just for you two—I wanted some too.” She glanced at Renzia, who stood silently at her side, and added, “Well, most of us, anyway.”

Kivvy wasted no time, grabbing one of the sausages and taking a hearty bite. Her eyes lit up as she chewed, savoring the rich, smoky flavor. “This is amazing!” she exclaimed through a mouthful of food.

Rava picked up one of the ribs with a little more decorum, her sharp teeth tearing into the meat with precision. She nodded approvingly but said nothing, her focus entirely on the meal.

Vivienne leaned back slightly, a satisfied smile tugging at her lips as she watched the others savor the food. Kivvy devoured her portion with gusto, her small frame hunched over the ribs like a creature guarding its prize. Renzia sat upright, mechanical and precise as always, carefully watching the reactions of the people eating. Rava, ever the composed leader, took her time, though her expressions softened subtly as she enjoyed the flavors. For all the chaos and uncertainty surrounding them, moments like this—simple, shared, and unguarded—felt like a small victory to Vivienne. A rare glimpse of what normalcy might look like.

The peace was interrupted as a clanhall maid approached, her movements brisk but deferential. In her hand was a scroll sealed with the Ravanyr crest. She bowed her head slightly before addressing Rava. “Lady Ravanyr, your mother has requested you meet her in her office. She said you are welcome to bring whoever you choose.”

Rava’s brows knitted as she accepted the scroll. Breaking the seal, her eyes scanned the neatly written lines. Her lips pressed into a thin line, and she gave a curt nod, tucking the parchment away in her tunic. “Thank you,” she replied evenly. The maid offered a polite curtsy and retreated as swiftly as she had come.

Vivienne raised an eyebrow. “Seems like the family business is calling again,” she remarked dryly, her tone playful but her eyes keen.

“It always does,” Rava replied with a touch of weariness. She glanced at the group. “Finish up quickly. We’re going.”

Kivvy perked up, licking her fingers clean. “Oh, are we doing something fun? Or... serious?”

Rava’s expression was unreadable as she stood. “We’ll find out soon enough.”

The group quickly wrapped up their impromptu meal. Vivienne wiped her hands on a piece of cloth she had tucked away, her dark eyes flitting over Renzia and Kivvy as they prepared themselves. Renzia stood silently, her movements smooth and precise as she set her now-clean slate back into its usual place. Kivvy bounced to her feet, wiping grease from her chin with the back of her hand and straightening her coat—a mix of youthful eagerness and curiosity sparkling in her eyes.

Vivienne chuckled under her breath, her tail flicking lazily behind her. “Let’s hope it’s a bit of both,” she murmured to Kivvy.

The walk through the clanhall was a quiet one, the atmosphere shifting from casual camaraderie to the weighty silence of anticipation. The intricate stonework of the hall caught the flicker of torches, casting long shadows as they navigated the winding corridors. The Ravanyr crest, engraved on banners and doorways, seemed to watch their every step.

Rava led the way with her usual composed stride, her expression betraying nothing. Vivienne followed close behind, her sharp gaze absorbing the subtle details of their surroundings. Kivvy walked beside her, occasionally craning her neck to take in the grand architecture with wide-eyed wonder.

As they reached the double doors of Korriva’s office, Rava paused, her hand resting lightly on the polished wood. She turned to the group, her tone low and firm. “Keep your questions to a minimum unless addressed directly. This won’t take long.”

Vivienne tilted her head, her lips curling in a faint smirk. “I’ll be on my best behavior,” she said with mock innocence.

Rava gave her a look but said nothing, pushing the doors open with deliberate care. Inside, the room was bathed in the warm glow of lantern light. The walls were lined with shelves of books, ledgers, and maps, interspersed with artifacts that hinted at the family’s long history. The High Fang stood behind a broad desk, her figure regal and commanding.

Korriva’s gaze flicked to each of them as they entered, her sharp, calculating eyes taking in every detail of the group’s arrival. She stood behind a large, imposing desk, the faint gleam of lantern light casting shadows that deepened the hard lines of her face. Her presence filled the room, an unspoken command emanating from every movement, from the way her hands rested calmly on the surface of her desk to the quiet authority in her posture. Her eyes locked onto Rava first, as expected, her daughter the one she measured most closely.

Kivvy stared up at the head of the Serkoth clan, her eyes wide in disbelief. "Damn, I see where Rava gets her size from..." she muttered, not bothering to lower her voice. The words slipped out before she could stop them, even though the lekines were known for their sharp hearing. Vivienne, standing right beside her, caught every word. Everyone looked at her, and she shrunk under their gazes.

"Just sayin'..." she mumbled, her voice faltering as the intense gazes of the others bore down on her, shrinking under the weight of their attention.

Korriva turned her attention to her daughter.

“Rava,” she greeted, her voice steady, unwavering, carrying a weight of responsibility that couldn’t be ignored. “And your… companions. New, and less new.”

Rava inclined her head slightly, her own gaze measured, her expression the picture of stoic composure. “High Fang,” she responded with quiet respect.

Korriva’s gaze didn’t waver as she turned to the rest of the group, pausing ever so slightly on Vivienne. There was something in that lingering glance, a subtle shift of the eyes that suggested she wasn’t just assessing Vivienne’s appearance but calculating her place in this ever-evolving web of alliances. Korriva’s expression remained unreadable, but there was no mistaking the sharpness of her focus.

After a beat, Korriva straightened, her shoulders pulling back with a deliberate motion that marked the transition from greeting to business. “I have an assignment for you,” she said, the words weighted with the authority that only years of leadership could cultivate. Her voice held the kind of power that required no raising of tone—simply the certainty that she would be obeyed. “One that could determine the outcome of our preparations for the coming war.”

The mention of war was enough to draw Vivienne’s full attention, her sharp eyes narrowing ever so slightly. She remained silent, her posture poised and still, but inside, the flicker of interest burned brighter. Korriva was rarely one to speak so directly of such matters, which made it clear that whatever she was about to say was not only important but critical.

Korriva’s voice broke the silence again, her words deliberate as she made the stakes clear. “We need Tarric,” she continued, her gaze cutting to Rava as she spoke her brother’s name. “His expertise in prophecy and foresight, as well as his experiences travelling the Sovereignty are vital. Without him, our strategies are incomplete. While Narek is doing a fine job, he needs the help of your second eldest brother. He’s been absent too long, and our scouts have been unable to precisely locate him. You, Rava, must bring him back.”

There was a noticeable tightness in Rava’s jaw at the mention of Tarric. While Vivienne couldn’t be sure of the nature of their relationship, it was clear that the command carried some weight for Rava—perhaps a family bond, perhaps the pressure of expectation. Still, she remained outwardly calm, her arms folding across her chest as she listened to her mother’s next words.

Rava’s voice, low but steady, cut through the tension. “Do you have any leads on his location?”

Korriva’s hand swept toward the large map laid out on her desk, the edges frayed and dotted with the marks of countless strategic discussions. The map was littered with symbols—some Vivienne recognized, others foreign to her—but all clearly denoted areas of interest. The territory marked in shadow caught Vivienne’s attention, a dark and jagged border that suggested danger, unpredictability. “Reports suggest he was last seen near the Shadowfrost Weald,” Korriva said, her finger tracing the area on the map with a familiarity that suggested she had already considered the risks. “Investigating ruins tied to his... personal interests. It’s dangerous territory, but if anyone can retrieve him, it’s you.”

The mention of danger was enough to shift the atmosphere in the room. Kivvy’s ears perked up, her small frame suddenly brimming with attention, fingers twitching at the prospect of excitement. Vivienne’s lips curled ever so slightly, amused by Kivvy’s obvious enthusiasm, but her own mind was elsewhere, calculating the weight of the task ahead.

“And,” Korriva’s gaze flicked toward Vivienne and Kivvy, her words cutting through the momentary silence. “Your companions may prove useful in this endeavor, so long as they don’t slow you down.”

Kivvy’s eyes gleamed at the challenge, her fingers curling in anticipation, while Vivienne’s gaze remained composed. The briefest flicker of a grin tugged at Vivienne’s lips, but she said nothing. Her role was clear enough—she was a tool in the mission, an asset, and she’d make sure she was one that would not be easily overlooked.

Rava nodded once, decisively, the tension in her shoulders easing ever so slightly. “Understood,” she said, her tone clipped but firm. She turned her eyes to the map briefly before meeting her mother’s steady gaze. “We’ll leave as soon as we are prepared.”

Korriva gave a single nod in return, her voice cool and composed. “Good. The usual funds will be allocated to this operation. Speak to Narek for it, as well as any requisitions you need.” She paused, her eyes narrowing slightly as she addressed the group. “You may leave.”

The words were final, and the tension in the room seemed to loosen just a fraction as the group turned toward the door. But as they began to filter out, Korriva’s voice stopped them.

“Actually, Vivienne,” she called, her tone shifting with a subtle, but unmistakable command. “I would like a word with you in private.”

Vivienne turned slowly, her brow arching slightly as she met Korriva’s gaze. She gave a small nod, the intrigue flickering again, though her expression remained neutral. Korriva’s summons, especially to her, could mean anything. And Vivienne, ever sharp, would be ready for whatever came next.

“Meet us at the gates when you are ready.” Called out Rava before closing the door behind herself.