Chapter 27 - A Thorne in Lillia's Side

Lillia stood on the first-floor landing where Sir Nobody’s corpse had been, a survivor. An irony that was lost on her.
The princess was staring at the door to the Hunting Lodge, which was closed again. Lillia had rested, and she knew that the Hunting Lodge reset each and every day in the dungeon, which only meant one thing.
The chitterpede was back.
It was in there. And if, like Havoc, it was the same one that respawned every time, it was probably pissed. Lillia was too. By her count the score was 1-1. She’d technically killed it twice but the second time had been traumatising
She just didn’t know if she wanted to pick a fight about it.
Whatever the case, she wasn’t about to get caught by the “monster hiding above the door” trick for a third time in the past several days. She’d be careful of that one…and hopefully and other new maneuvers.
Lillia couldn’t avoid the Hunting Lodge. What other option did was there? Lillia just needed to go inside and hope that the Huntsmaster met her in the front room instead of in the back closet. Then the chitterpede could ram into the door as much as it wanted while Lillia had a presumably lovely conversation with the Huntsmaster.
Or maybe the sensible thing to do was open that door and ‘farm’ the chitterpede. If there was a difference between one and two burnmite cloths, maybe Lillia should have been resting over and over again and killing the same bug.
Maybe. Maybe there was a limit to how often she could do that. Either way, Lillia didn’t want to do it because it sounded gross, boring, and it wasn’t getting her any closer to a mysterious second hearth.
Lillia opened the door. It still smelled of stale alcohol within the Hunting Lodge. The rugs were still spread across the floor, and the table Lillia had wrestled the knife on yesterday had been righted, placed back in the middle of the room like nothing had happened.
There was no knife on it. There was no note from the Huntsmaster.
Was Lillia going to have to go back and get the corpse? How was she supposed to move it? Was it a “bring me their heads” thing? How was she supposed to carry the head?
Lillia stepped into the Hunting Lodge, looking up as she made her way in. The ceiling was clear. It was the same gross place it had been each time she’d been here. Unless something had changed in the closet, the Huntsmaster was missing.
The door slammed behind Lillia in a way it hadn’t since she first came here. Before Lillia had a chance to move, she felt a prick in the small of her back.
The door hadn’t slammed. Someone had slammed the door.
“Hey, anyone taught you manners? About knocking?” it was a woman’s voice.
Lillia tried to spin around and see the lady, but the prick, clearly a blade, pressed harder into her back to keep her from moving.
“Ain’t you a jumpy gal,” her captor said. “How about you let me ask some questions before you start movin’ like that again.”
Lillia nodded, then, realizing the woman was behind her, clarified. “Okay.”
She really needed to start checking doors, but that was the sort of work she usually had guards for.
“You part of the party that burned down my hunting grounds?”
“Uh.”
“It’s a simple question.”
“Yes, and no?”
“That was not a simple answer.” The blade pressed against Lillia’s back. The princess tried to scooch away, only to be trapped as the woman wrapped an arm around her neck. A royal blue sleeve ended in a bright yellow hand.
“Well, see, yes, I think I burned it down, but also I’m not part of a party,” Lillia said. “A party is a group of adventurers, right?”
“You’re saying you’re out there alone, girl?”
“Yeah.”
The lady who’d captured Lillia snorted, and she relaxed her grip around Lillia’s throat. At least until Lillia tried to wriggle her way free.
“I didn’t say you could leave.”
“Of course you didn’t. How silly of me.”
“So you’re really out there alone?”
“Yeah.” Lillia left the ‘now’ part of that truth out of it. Havoc’s situation seemed like a lot of information to try to explain while she was the primary victim of a chokehold. At least the woman’s hand was nice and warm.
“And the Ambusher?”
“I killed it. It’s upstairs if you want to see it.”
“You?” The grip relented again, this time fully releasing Lillia. Though the princess still didn’t try to get away. “You took down the Ambusher?”
“One of the dungeon monsters helped me.”
“You and an early floor monster killed the Ambusher.”
“Yeah.”
“Well damn, little girl, you don’t look it but we might make a hunter out of you yet.” The hand that had been wrapped around Lillia instead grabbed her shoulder and spun the princess around.
What she saw was a…bee person? That was the best way to explain it. Her skin was yellow, her cheeks were fuzzy, and there might have been wings back there if Lillia could get a look. The bee-person was dressed in an extravagant royal blue blouse with leather shoulder pads and accents, a musketeer hat of the same shade of blue, and tight-laced leather chaps. Of course—Rickshaw’s wife!
“Hello, Honeybee!” Lillia said. If this were Rickshaw’s wife, then she would know where Rickshaw was. Rickshaw knew where the fountain was, so he probably knew where another hearth was. It was all coming together.
“Honey? Getting a little familiar there,” the Huntsmaster said. The woman had four arms. She crossed the upper two.
“Sorry, I thought that was your name.”
“Why would that be my name?”
Lillia stared for a little too long as she choked down the obvious answer of, “Because you’re a bee?” She settled on something more diplomatic. “I just thought you were Rickshaw’s wife.”
“The skeleton? Haven’t seen him in a season or four.” The Huntsmaster brushed off Lillia’s shoulder and then took a step away. The woman didn’t bother trying to hide the fact that she was looking Lillia over. “Gown of chitterpede chitin. I like it. Creative.”
“Thanks,” Lillia chirped. She swished the dress to show off how loud it was in response to the compliment.
“Yeah, most people don’t give the chitin the time of day because they’re a low-level encounter. But once layered and refined, the scales of the chitterpede are a very formidable material.” The woman stepped around Lillia and ran her lower left hand along the waist of Lillia’s dress. “Not so sure about the choice to use it for something this frilly. Probably shouldn’t be wearing chitin unless you’re looking for a fight.”
Once the woman was past Lillia, she pulled out one of the chairs around the table the knife had been in. She sat down and threw her feet up onto the table. Her boots were a deep chocolate leather with thick corded laces. “And forgive me if I’m wrong, but based on appearances, you don’t strike me as the kind to look for a fight.”
“You’d be right,” Lillia said. Then, recalling the woman’s comment about manners, she added. “I am Princess Lillia of House Ashvalin.”
“Well, damn, look at all those fancy titles.” The Huntsmaster chuckled as she said it. Lillia hadn’t realized how much she missed the sound of a woman’s laughter. Even if it was coming out of a person who was at least half-bug.
Lillia was getting too used to weird things down here.
“Huntsmaster to all, Huntsmistress to those who care about gender. The name is Thorne.” The way Thorne introduced herself, Lillia expected her to offer at least one of her hands. All four stayed folded. Upper two across her chest, the lower pair on her lap. “And you and I need to talk about the prize you brought me.”
“What about the prize?”
“Well, Lillia. Gotta say it’s been a while since someone took out an Ambusher. Been a while since anyone did anything down here, really.” She uncrossed and then crossed her legs on the table. Lillia saw the glint of a knife tucked into Thorne’s boot. “And I suppose I wasn’t ready with a specific reward for someone doing something so reckless.”
“Reckless? It came after me!”
“Yeah, and if you don’t get it on the first shot, you let it run away, then you hunt it again. Even then, with the scales, most people don’t think an Ambusher is worth it. Size of the fight ain’t worth the size of the trophy.”
“Well, it’s what I have so—mark me complete or give me something. I guess. Do you have a mirror?”
“A mirror? That’s all you want?”
“No, just one I can borrow…for when I try things on.” Lillia blushed. “ wasn’t going to ask.” That was a lie. “But you’re just dressed really well, so I thought that you might have one.” That wasn’t a lie. “And I wanted to see how my new dress looked.” That felt silly.
“A new dress?” Thorne asked. Lillia could tell that the woman was trying to recall something, even though her eyes were perfectly shining black. “I don’t believe the Ambusher can drop a dress.”
“No, I make it out of its feathers. Or my class does. If that makes sense.”
“You have a class that makes clothing out of monster parts,” Thorne said. The woman stood up as she said it, a grin spreading across her face. “Now this I’ve gotta see.”
“Good! Do you have a mirror?”
“Now, sugar. Show me.”
Lillia almost protested. After all, this woman was asking her to change in front of her. But first off, that was probably fine because she was some kind of bee, but also a woman. Second off Lillia never ended up naked in the process of changing between dresses.
It still just seemed inappropriate to ask.
Lillia retrieved one of the Ambusher’s feathers and held it out in her palm so that Thorne could see it. Once the Huntsmaster had nodded, Lillia crushed the feather in her fist, letting the iridescent dust rain down to the floor.
The chitterpede dress fell apart. Cascading off Lillia, scale by scale. On the bottom half, what replaced it was voluminous. A sparse petticoat of the same tan of the Ambusher. The upper half was similarly undergarments, a sleeveless corset with the feathers layered on top, all pressed down close to Lillia, like the Ambusher’s had been mid-dive. Her arms were bare. The corset barely reached her collarbones.
Lillia blushed again.
“Well, you don’t seem that dressed, but if all that came from a feather, that is impressive.”
Lillia looked down at herself. It did look as if she’d forgotten to finish getting ready.
[Crashscale Layering]
[Equipment - Dress]
[Provides minor defensive bonuses [+2] against slashing and explosive damage]
[Provides a minor offensive bonus {+1} to slashing weapons.]
Lillia brushed the surface of the petticoat, smoothing it down. She pulled out a second feather. Crushed it.
Feathers stacked on the bottom of the petticoat, one over the other. The tan and black weaved together into a shifting pattern that would have been difficult to spot in the dried grasses on the plains.
On the top half, the ‘collar’ of the dress formed, low and swooping, lined with thin beads, all in the shape of the Ambusher’s scales.
Thorne took a step forward. “Well, I’ll be damned.”
Lillia knew what it sounded like when someone was impressed with her dress. She did a little twirl to show it off. “See?”
“You make those things just like that. We might be good friends. Consider how many parts I got in the back. Trade me the dress and—”
“I don’t think it comes off like that,” Lillia said. To prove the point, she pulled the chitterpede chitin out of her inventory and held it out in front of her. “This is what made the dress before. It transforms back after I stop using it.”
“Well, ain’t that disappointing,” Thorne said. “You said you got a full Crashscale upstairs. Here I was hoping you could provide a lady with a little bit of an update to her wardrobe.”
“I don’t think the parts upstairs count as the same materials either. I couldn’t pick them up the same way.”
“Course they’re not. Not right away; you need a blacksmith or something to work on them. They can turn it into something useful.” Thorne looked Lillia over again. “I mean, hell, they’d usually be the ones turning the feathers into that. You’re putting some blacksmith somewhere outta work.”
“I know a blacksmith. Just need to get to a hearth.”
Lillia bunched the fabric of her petticoat in her hands and lifted it to test the weight. The text changed as she did.
[Crashscale Slip & Coat]
[Equipment - Dress]
[Provides minor defensive bonuses [+4] against slashing and explosive damage.]
[Provides a minor offensive bonus [+2] to slashing weapons.]
[If you strike an enemy first in combat, deal bonus slashing damage on each hit until you receive damage.]
“So you find me your blacksmith and you’ll get me that dress?”
“I still don’t know if I can take it off,” Lillia said. “But he can totally do that.” She didn’t know if she was making a promise she couldn’t keep to a person she couldn’t anger, but Lillia couldn’t afford to turn down potential help right now. “You already owe me for the Ambusher so anything you can do to get me closer to the hearth.”
Thorne leaned down and grabbed the hem of Lillia’s dress, picking it up to test the weight as Lillia had a moment before. She rubbed the fabric between two of her fingers while using another hand to check the feathers higher up on the waist. “Whatever that skill is, it’s got good taste.” She stood back up. “Now see, I’ve already got you closer to the hearth, considering third-floor access is yours, Princess. Consider this conversation my stamp of approval.”
“And for the Ambusher?” Lillia asked.
“That brings up a question for you: I would adore to take that Ambusher off your hands. But if you have a blacksmith friend, you get more out of it letting him do the work than handing it over to me.”
Thorne got close to Lillia. Too close. Close enough to show that she knew what she was doing. “But I would certainly appreciate if you let me have that Ambusher now.”
Lillia cleared her throat. Her instinct was polite rejection. After all, she wasn’t a stranger to turning away someone making an advance on her—whether for favors or otherwise—but instead of following her instinct, Lillia considered the difference between this and her time at the castle.
Right now, she didn’t hold all the cards. She held one card. It was a dead Ambusher. It was going to start to smell.
“You take the Ambusher. And you’ll help me more than just unlocking the floor?”
“That could be arranged. Or…” Thorne dragged the word.
“Sounds good. Potions. Stock me up.”
Thorne pulled back from her advance on Lillia. “Potions?”
“Potions, something like that, can help me. I have clothes. I have a sword and a maul. What else do I need?”
“Well, I’m not sure the Ambusher’s worth—”
“Then I’ll have Havoc take a look at it when I get him back,” Lillia said. She knew she was playing a dangerous game. Thorne clearly wanted the Ambusher carcass, and wanted it now, but Lillia was acting like she was willing to walk away when she really wasn’t.
“Let’s not get hasty.”
The gamble had worked.
“Two health potions, minor.” Thorne’s stance changed as she said it. She folded her top arms and put the bottom set on her hips. Negotiation. This Lillia could do.
“Please, my ruined dress was worth three potions and a bar of soap,” Lillia said. “You can do better than that.”
“I swear my hands are tied.”
“Okay, then, off I go to the third floor.”
“Three.”
“Four potions and a piece of equipment. A weapon. At least level five.”
“Deal.”
“Well—hey! Deal?”
“Sounds fair enough to me,” Thorne uncrossed her arms to offer Lillia a handshake.
“But that’s so much higher than…How low did you start?”
“Very low. You seem pretty new. Didn’t figure you knew what that skin was worth.” Thorne sighed. “Don’t worry, I’ll do right by you. That dress skill of yours has some interesting potential.”
Lillia nodded along with Thorne’s admission. There was a critical part of the negotiation that she hadn’t really considered. Lillia didn’t know what the hell she was offering, which made it hard to counter Thorne’s suggestions. Before she let Thorne show her any weapons, Lillia pulled a third feather out of her inventory. Thorne had been the one to say it. Her ability had potential. She’d only ever had two parts of the same material before. What would a third do?
[Adaptive Regalia Limit Reached!]
[3 Material and Combined Dress unlocked at Level 2]
[Overflow! Items returned to your inventory]
There was a bright flash. Iridescent dust filled the room as the dress shattered. Thorne averted her eyes. The princess was cold.
Lillia blinked.
Lillia screamed.