Isekai’d Shoggoth - Chapter 100: Fallout

Even though cleaning up is simply a matter of several cantrips, I’m being subjected to CONCERN. To the point where I get concerned.

“Lily-Anne.” – I demand sternly, pausing her midword – “I am fine. I am NOT injured or even discomfited in any notable way.”

“But you’re covered in blood!” – she yelps back, her hands clenched. She seems to be torn between wanting to hug me and to wipe me off, come to think of it.

I concentrate for a moment, focus on the “not mine” concept and expel the filth from my surface, so to speak. The air around me becomes tinted red as the blood on my clothes abruptly evaporates and condenses in a very brief rain of blood, creating a circle of red splotches under my feet.

“There we go, no blood on me anymore. Not that any of it was mine to begin with.” – I explain patiently, – “Don’t worry so much.”

She shakes her head at me, looking pale… And then abruptly turns to the side and vomits into the flowerbed messily. Owie. Her mother seems to be made of sterner stuff, though she also looks ill at ease. Guards, on other hand, just look awestruck. Especially lieutenant.

“Astounding, lady Gillespie.” – he proffers slowly, shaking his head – “Truly, a strike most magnificent. From shoulder to hip in one stroke, why… And that misbegotten wretch thought to hide under the invisible cloak, too. You are an inspiration for any knight!”

I look at the sword still in my hand. Nice, but… Hm. It was not included in my impromptu cleansing and is still generously smeared with blood. Uncouth, that. I run a hand over it, stripping the blood telekinetically… And etching a simple formula onto the blade, while at it. Can’t put in anything too fancy on it, lest it starts leeching from wielder or fail to function without flower, but… This little bit will make it self-cleaning, using the power of “sacrifice”, so to speak. Technically speaking, any act of destruction frees up a bit of magical energy, so the array nabs it and uses it to clean the blade off. And a floral motif around the edge, so it could be a backup focus, too. No reason not to, plenty of space for it on the blade. Done with that, I flip the blade around, holding it by the ricasso and extend it towards the lieutenant handle-first.

“My apologies for appropriating your sword, good sir knight.” – I proffer – “I’ve etched the cleaning enchantment onto it as an apology. Don’t worry about needing flowers, it will take the needed power from whatever you choose to strike. And a bit of facsimile to go with it, just in case you feel the need for a little cantrip to improve your odds.”

He bows deeply and takes the sword back, staring at it in wonderment.

“I’m deeply honored, lady Gillespie.” – he then replies – “I shall endeavor to put this blade to good use for the glory of the kingdom.”

That being handled, I turn to attend to Lily-Anne, who is still dry-heaving. Owie. So, I step closer, and rub her back, simultaneously pushing some light magic into her to ease up nausea and soothe her throat. A simple glass of water is conjured almost absentmindedly, as I hand it over to her. She takes it from me, nodding lightly as she takes a sip to rinse her mouth out, spitting it into the much-suffering flowerbed right after. The rest is used to splash her face lightly to freshen her up. She jumps up a bit as the glass and water vanish abruptly, and shakes her head.

“Thank you.” – she offers, her voice still a bit raw – “Let’s… depart, shall we?”

That snaps the lieutenant out of admiration of his newly enchanted sword. “Ah, yes indeed.” – he hastily offers – “James, Etienne, you two on the escort. The rest, with me. Let’s remove those unsightly corpses.”

As we move towards the doors, Monika slows down to walk right next to me, remarking to me in a low voice – “You seem to be well used to bloodshed, lady Gillespie. On one hand, I am quite glad my precious daughter is protected so ferociously, on the other… Forgive me my apprehension, but just how come you are so used to killing? Dueling, I could understand, but that what happened right now was not it in the slightest, was it? You had no hesitation at all disposing of those murderers.”

“Well… I did grow up in the north.” – I prevaricate – “While my father did his best to shield me from the unpleasantries of the sort, we do get brigands in the domain every now and then. Naturally, I put some time and effort into developing appropriate skills to fend them off, should the need arise. In large engagements, I would obviously go with magic, but in sudden bouts like these, a good blade is hard to beat, so I did learn some basics of swashbuckling in addition to usual fencing.”

I pause, and turn my head to face Monika, giving her a crooked smile – “The rest, well… the result of my ambitions, I’m afraid. This is not the first or even the tenth time I had to contend with hired killers, so I have grown used to just killing those who approach me or mine with hostile intent.”

This story is true enough not to ping someone’s magical senses, but also somewhat misleading, as a good chunk of tolerance for violence I have inherited from my first life. Still, the answer seems to be good enough for Monika, who sighs and nods slowly.

“I am sorry that you had to learn such skills, my dear.” – she admits – “It is my dearest wish to see the time when young maidens like you shall have no more use for such.”

“Take heart. If I have to say something about it, this time is not as far as one would think.” – I retort with a genuine smile this time – “As our prosperity grows, there will be less and less people desperate enough to take lives for a pittance of coin.”

“Truly a bright future.” – she concludes with a smile of her own.

___

“I have been told there was an altercation…” – Abraham begins, as we return to the rooms. Apparently, the guards notified him immediately, as I see the lieutenant standing in attention right next to him.

“Yes.” – I admit lightly – “I was expecting something of the sort, but did not believe remaining hashishins would be so brazen as to breach into your palace.”

His face darkens. “Thrice bedamned sand jackals… Jerome, report. What did you find?” – he demands, turning to face the knight next to him.

“As far as we were able to ascertain so far, my liege, the hashishins had scaled the outer walls of the garden under the invisibility cloaks.” – he replies – “We found one still intact on the roofs by the garden. The one taken alive is not talking yet, but it seems to me that he was there to provide a distraction, while his fellow would do the dirty deed behind our backs. From what little we managed to get from him, he was fully intending to throw his own life away on this attempt. We have also found a rappel next to the cloak, which is why we believe they scaled the wall.”

“Invisibility cloaks, huh?” – Abraham muses – “They don’t keep. Someone in the Parsee must have provided them with freshly made ones for this.”

“Indeed, my liege.” – Jerome confirms – “We have remanded all evidence to the care of sir Malachi to ferret out the truth. Whoever aided those wretches will be found… If they can be found, that is. Hashishins are sadly known for eliminating loose ends in situations like these. Still, the potions required for the production of cloaks are rare and expensive, which narrows down the likely suspects. Guards had already been dispatched to round up the alchemists in Parsee capable of producing such, they shall be questioned by sir Malachi shortly. We have already contacted Merchant Guild, but good merchant van der Klaas ensures us that there was no sale of potions in question within the last month. It’s not common ware, after all. He promised to furnish a full list of people who bought the ingredients necessary for the creation of such by the evening.”

Abraham nods heavily. “Keep me updated.” – he demands briskly – “To attempt assassination within my own palace, this is an insult that can not go unanswered. Thankfully, lady Gillespie had already put an end to Alamut itself, so that’s vengeance done. Now all we need is to find out who among my subjects collaborated with them.”

Jerome doubletakes. “Truly?!” – he yelps – “Lady Gillespie, the Alamut had been destroyed?”

I shrug. “I killed all the hashishins present in the keep, yes. I left the townfolk be, and the keep itself is passably intact, though I did collapse several towers in the process.” – I tell him and he bows deeply.

“You are truly blessed by Zali herself, milady.” – he breathes out reverently.

The scene is abruptly interrupted by a majordomo running in. “Your highness!” – he proclaims – “Marquis de Brege is in the palace begging for an immediate audience! He claims lady Gillespie had assaulted his household and demands justice.”

Abe’s face hardens. “…Bring him here immediately.” – he rumbles – “I’m not in the mood for his nonsense, best cut it at the nib before he spreads it all over the Parsee.”

He groans as the majordomo departs, turning to face me – “How can a man barely in his fifties be a dotard already?”

“If I were to hazard a guess, your highness, he was born simple.” – I retort contemplatively – “De Breges seem to exhibit the worst of inbreeding consequences, if my limited observation of them is of any indication.”

“Inbreeding?” – Monika quips suddenly – “Would you mind elaborating on this, lady Gillespie?”

I sigh. “It’s an unfortunate consequence of nobility.” – I explain – “While I can understand the preference for keeping the power concentrated in the hands of only a few families, the consequence of this is that many negative traits eventually begin to breed true. The closer to family one marries, the worse the potential shortfalls. In truth, we Gillespies had suffered from this too. Ideally, there should be at least a one generation gap between marriages between families. Marrying within your own family is even worse, and de Breges are known for doing exactly that. The consequences can be manifold. In the case of Gillespies and Bradfords, our worst problem is an increased rate of stillbirths. De Breges.. succeeded in breeding in feeblemindedness into their line.”

I pause, and continue, taking in the elongating faces – “Normally, a negative trait in one parent can be subsumed by goodness in other, but when both parents have a predisposition to the same negative trait, it tends to manifest in children as well. It is a complicated problem, and the most obvious solution of marrying further from family lines is often inconvenient politically… To tell the truth, I am concerned about this problem, as it is imperiling my own family. However, I am researching it, and I do have some findings on the matter. Not a true solution, yet, but I am figuring out medical spells that would permit testing the children for a possible resurgence of negative traits, with an eye towards vetting further marriages for bad meeting bad, so to speak. Correcting those is further still, but might be achievable… At least, in some cases.”

Horrified expressions all around. And one pensive. Alexander suddenly snaps his fingers. “Lady Gillespie, would haemophilia be among those negative traits you speak of?” – he requests.

“One of the most prominent ones, yes.” – I confirm – “Any person you take, noble or commoner? May be a carrier of predisposition for it. Imagine each parent as, well… as a sack of seeds, for the lack of better term. To make a child, a handful of seeds from each of the sacks is taken and mixed. If some of those seeds carry the trait, that is what the child will inherit. Which means that any child at birth gambles for it, and may inherit anything from a total lack of predisposition to a grand total of SUM of predisposition from the parents. If both parents have a large amount of seeds with a predisposition, it is more likely than not that their children will have it too. Once the amount of bad amasses enough, it manifests as an external disorder. In the case of haemophilia, the problem is exacerbated by the fact that men exhibit the disorder at a lower level of predisposition than women, but women still can pass on the high predisposition to their progeny.”

Alexander smiles crookedly, musing – “…That is horrible, but explains so much. The important question is, then… Could there be some kind of cure for such hereditary problems?”

“Theoretically, your excellence.” – I admit – “Theoretically. The problem here is simple, yet incredibly hard – the seeds I have spoken of? They define everything about the person. Their likely height, gait, hair color, eye color, skin color, mental disposition… We do not possess any cures at the moment that can alter one bad seed while preserving the others. Not even in theory. Currently, I am working on an easier problem of identifying the likelihood of a bad trait cropping up, by taking a sample of blood from each of the parents and comparing them. Even so, this is entirely new research, and I have no idea when I will have any results and how useful the results can be. Right now, my best advice is to reconsider the marriage if both families in question seem to have the same kind of disorder cropping up in their respective bloodlines. Not a good solution for many reasons, but currently the best one I have. Ostensibly speaking, families can breed the bad trait out by marrying their children to gifted commoners, but this is not a quick solution, nor it is a certain one. Not to mention the political repercussions of doing so. I hesitate to suggest any legal changes to the situation… and frankly speaking, I hesitate to even make this particular knowledge public due to the immense outcry it would garner from all sorts of nobles who consider the purity of blood as they see it far more important than the chance of begetting a hampered child.”

A heavy silence descends. For a couple moments, no one says anything, mired in their dark thoughts. Then Abraham swings his arm down resolutely.

“A problem for generations, indeed.” – he muses – “I do not begrudge your decision to keep this knowledge quiet, lady Gillespie. Disseminated improperly, it could indeed topple kingdoms. Nonetheless, I ask of you to impart everything you know of the problem to sir Pasteur. I have the utmost confidence in his discretion and frankly, this does not sound as a problem to bear alone. Damnation, this is truly the scourge of gods upon the haughty! I can do naught but count Cullens lucky for not garnering any hereditary problems themselves, so far. Still, that does explain in part why older houses are often on the wane, while younger ones flourish.”

“Well… take heart, your highness.” – I try to cheer him up – “This is a huge problem, true, but the pace of it is very slow. We do have time to find the means of safeguarding against it before it strikes at our next generation, at the very least. I dare not suggest that there will be a complete solution in our time, but… Forewarned means forearmed. Even if we will not solve it ourselves, we can lay the foundation for our children and grandchildren to build upon to rid us all of that scourge.”

Aaand I may have just signed myself up to be the mother of genetics in this world. Me and my big mouth…