Isekai’d Shoggoth - Chapter 126. Disparate Threads

…I am having second thoughts about things. I mean, I more or less already introduced the concept of photography, given the addon camera module for the tablet… But after today, I am suddenly gripped with doubt. It would probably be mortifying if dad actually had any photos regarding “Little Dragony”. As it stands, it was embarrassing aplenty to have him regale my wives with the STORIES of this happening. Good grief. Then mom joined in, too. What is that about parents that compels them to try and embarrass you? Oh, and if you ever dare to recall one of the many instances when they goofed up in front of you? Tragedy, world-ending tragedy amidst the sea of imprecations and complaints…

Aaactually, I’m just grumbling. And maybe ranting a little about the first set of parents I had. Current ones are pretty cool with return fire, so to speak. And, I suppose, have a somewhat better sense for when it is time to lay off. Or maybe I just have thicker skin in this incarnation?…

Honestly speaking, I am not even sure just how much of original me actually is retained. The memories are just that. Memories. I suppose I could claim something is right or not right, but would that claim have any objective validity, I do wonder… Previous me did NOT have many options current me has that raise the quality of life to… unprecedented levels. Access to magic alone is a hell of a change, let alone shoggoth bullshit. That ought to have an impact, at the very least, let alone having two whole other personas crammed into headspace. I’m still not sure how that did not result in some… psychiatrically unsound consequences. Divine intervention, heh.

Now, let’s see what today can bring. Yesterday, after getting back from the la Vallieres, the remainder of the day was monopolized by mom and dad reminiscing about me to my harem. Not exactly optimal, but honestly speaking, I don’t care enough to really offer anything more than the token “I am not fond of you bringing up my childhood foibles” resistance. Come to think of it, they would have probably persisted harder if I showed more care. Buut, I was kind of emotionally drained after finding out I’m not entirely impervious to mental magics, and so I am afraid my resistance had come across as a morose resignation. Probably sapped the fun out of trying to embarrass me. Maybe. Or maybe it was less lack of fun and more abundance of consideration for my feelings on the matter. Either/or.

Anyway, I got me a full night of sleep and cuddles (after personally pushing three beds together to make something suitable, note to myself to build a better-sized bed for my estate room visits) and now I’m feeling heeled well enough to try something motherly-daughterly with Cy. Namely, we’re going to take a scroll through the burg next to the estate. Bridgit is catching up with her fellow maids, Roxolane wanted to pick up some presents for her family, Moon Unit is being kind and generous and Lily-Anne somehow caught a cold yesterday. The last two events are tied, by the way. Lily-Anne woke up sniffling and having a bit of fever and Moon Unit had volunteered herself to look after her and hit her with light magic periodically. Between that and cure for cold, she should be right as rain by the evening.

Admittedly, I did plan on hovering around Lily-Anne myself, but she and Moon Unit had managed to persuade me they would be fine and I should rather spend some extra time with Cy.

“Eeeet food! So cool!” – aaand Cy is teasing me.

“Yeah, yeah. I’m a shoggoth and so are you.” – I retort, ruffling her hair – “And we’re on the roof. So, let’s try this again, now that we scared the everloving shit out of several squirrels to find out how exactly do they glide.”

I’m trying to teach Cy how to mimic appearances, and we have agreed that a squirrel is a respectable first goal. Unfortunately, the example of a squirrel that we found was of the flying variety. Which means that Cy is considering it a matter of importance to learn how to do that as well. The results are… mixed, let’s say it like this. For both of us. I do have some half-forgotten experiences of gliding on deltaplane to fall back on, but at least half the time those actually complicate things instead of making them simpler. Oh well, nothing ventured, nothing gained. Cy does manage to glide across the yard and all the way beyond the fence to the tree. But when I try to do the same, I am caught in a sudden gust of wind and end up losing direction.

“Oh gods what!? Blasted critter! Out you go!” – Moon Unit is not happy about me almost landing in Lily-Anne’s soup.

“…Gods and stars, Alyssa, must you!?” – she yelps as I give her the puppy dog eyes and transform into a doll-sized copy of myself because she seems to be about to put me into a chamberpot instead of tossing me out of the window when she was under the assumption this is a random squirrel attack. Lily-Anne stares then starts giggling uncontrollably, as Moon Unit fumes at me and I try to placate her with assorted inane assurances that it was a tragic silly accident, not a deliberate prank.

“Why not a goose, then?” – she finally concludes as I explain my reasoning for doing what I do.

“Mom says I’m not ready to be a goose.” – Cy chirps happily as she comes into the door in her human guise – “Something about insufficient malice.”

Lily-Anne and Moon Unit give a synchronized shudder at that remark. “MMm, yes, better stick with squirrels for now, ahaha…” – Lily-Anne ventures nervously.

“Moooom. Have you been traumatizing your wives again?” – annd Cy earns a glare for that remark.

“Only as a side effect.” – I concede – “And I said I’m sorry, too.”

Given the nigh-palpable doubt I’m suddenly subjected to from all three directions… I’m not nailing it.

___

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…

It IS considerably annoying to be angry without any valid outlet for it. I sigh and pat Bridgit’s head again, hugging her closer. I did not want this. Not in the slightest. Honest. Just because I’m willing to kill people to give Bridgit closure on certain events does not mean I expect of her to return the favor. In fact, I’m very much against this very notion. Still… What she did, unsettling to her as it was, was done with best intentions. Technically speaking, we are in the clear – de jure, the man in question was trying to give Bridgit a contact poison to use on me, and therefore he was guilty of attempted murder. Several murders, actually, given that Bridgit herself would have likely not survived the experience either. I tested the stuff that was in the bottle, and this is some nasty shit there. Nothing that will hurt me much, but… Yeah. As far as I can tell, the poison in question is essentially a liquid nerve agent with impressive adsorption capability. Unless you know the mechanism of action and rather specialized spells to halt it and bind the toxins, the only viable way to survive is to amputate the body part that got splashed with it. And you have to be really quick about it too, if it gets into any major blood vessel, you’re dead.

One thing of note is that Bridgit mentioned this was bought. So… Apparently, we have an alchemist around that is both capable enough and unscrupulous enough to sell something like this to a commoner. That is worrying on many levels, because while I have no doubt they charge dearly for their services, an alchemist of that skill level is rarely if ever without a noble patron and exclusivity contracts. So…

Primo, it might be someone under a different noble picking some side cash. Possible, but the least plausible, given that aristocracy tends to be pretty big on monopolies and will not tolerate such breach of contract lightly. It COULD be that noble in question is addicted to something in secret and alchemist is their sole source of this, but all the stuff I can think of that would make an alchemist untouchable tend to be fairly…. obvious… Hrm. But I do not do the whole courtier business, so it’s not out of question there ARE very literal crackheads out there among the nobility.

Secundo, it might be someone unaffiliated. Which is possible, though questionable. Why would someone that capable be without a patron? Social skills so poor they’d be better labeled antisocial skills? Previous history with nobles that precludes seeking patron in some manner? Backing of less than scrupulous commoner organization? Hrm, might be onto something here, an alchemist affiliated with an organized crime would in many ways be the most obvious option to turn to if you need a poison like this.

Finally, tertio, it might have been an alchemist acting with tacit or explicit permission from their patron. Which, to my consideration, is the most likely scenario. There are nobles out there that would love to see me dead for one reason or another, and most of them would like to see dad dead as well. Some are rumored to be ruthless enough not to care about the collateral damage inflicted on the other residents of the estate, even. This kind of arrangement also seems like just the thing some of the smarter assholes out there would implement. Send in unaffiliated disposable cat’s paw, wait till things shake out in some manner, celebrate success or deny involvement in failure.

It’s too bad Bridgit tossed the body into the river, I have no leads to.. wait. River. I do have some assets further on, the river does a bend there and flows pretty close to the Grand Forge. I can trawl upstream and hopefully catch the body.

“…I’m not happy.” – I tell Bridgit in the meanwhile – “Not with you, though. Rather, I’m not happy there actually are idiots out there who try to use you in this manner. I… might have to do something about this.” I sigh and stroke her head. Bridgit was pretty shaken by the whole thing. First premeditated murder can be a pretty upsetting experience, I imagine. Well… arguably, a case can be easily made for this whole thing happening in a state of affect. Regardless, it was upsetting, and I do owe Bridgit some extra comfort and reassurance for going above and beyond.

___

Fishing the body out turns out to be more trivial than I thought. For all her capabilities and skills, Bridgit is not an experienced brigand, and her method of disposal was not quite up to par. She should have weighed the body down with some rocks so that it would stay on the bottom of the river long enough for aquatic fauna to deface the corpse. As it was, clothes caught enough air to let the body float down the stream relatively unhindered. I did fish it out with one of my extra clusters about two leagues downstream from the Grand Forge in the evening.

No real point in eating waterlogged brains, but searching the clothes does give me enough of clues and smell samples to proceed. Shoving the corpse back into the river (with a sizeable boulder on top of it this time), I shrink this instance back into it’s squirrel shape and set it off on patrolling route, expanding a different one around the place where Bridgit reported to have had met the man. I’m in luck, the guy spent quite a while in the alley standing in one place and saturated enough of his scent there for me to track it back confidently. Unfortunately, it leads back to a barrack where poor travelers may sleep for free. Scouting the place with cockroach snips does net me a couple threads from the guy’s coat, but nothing other than that. So I can confirm he spent the night here, but at this barrack, the trail goes cold.

Or… does it? Hm. I-dea. Let’s take advantage of my shapeshifting for a bit. Hrm, yes, I do feign one genuine idiot quite well. What his name was? Darn, Bridgit didn’t mention it. Either she forgot, or he really didn’t bother introducing himself. So… wearing his shape, I approach the barrack, feigning being drunk and maudlin. A task easily amended by secreting a bit of wood spirits on the surface. Smells like cheap booze, it does.

“Leonard!” – one of the current barrack tenants addresses me as I pass by, adding a swat to the shoulder for good measure – “Done with your leeetle corvee?”

Corvee, I surmise, means a task or something similar. I want to stir the trouble, so I respond back with agitation – “Non, let the gods damn it all! That alchemist must have cheated me, the stuff had no effect.”

The guy I am conversing with heaves a deep belly laugh – “Well, fo shore! Maids are dab hand in alla them con-coo-kshons. No wonder your little kraut bird didn’t bite. Hear my advice, boyo, stop with all that luuurve potion mumbo jumbo and just go tell’er you want her legs shakin’ up the air around your ears. Wimmen like it when ya tell it straight-up honest.”

I… feel strangely lucky that my elected model of behavior for “Leonard” called for wincing and pushing the guy away irritably. Crass much, pal? And hands off my maids. Especially Bridgit. Only I’m allowed to make her legs shake up in the air around my ears. Maybe the rest of my harem too, if they’re in the mood for fooling around with each other. But no one else. Especially no unwashed commoners.

The guy takes the shove in good spirits, but decides to needle “Leonard” a little more – “Well, hey, if yeah potion was trukue, go an’ ask for money back, amirite?”

I turn around to nail him with a glare. “Yeah, sure.” – I muster all the “drunken” sarcasm I can – “Just walk up to them and, what, demand back all the silver…” I make a show of trailing off, before “perking up” “drunkenly” – “Aaayanno, I just might!”

And with that I amble right back out. The guy makes no move to stop me, but he does frown as I leave the barrack. “Didn’t he say he got that satchel from Tremper?” – he asks sotto voce from the man next section. The man was apparently already in process of settling in for sleep, but nonetheless, he does bite back tiredly – “So he’s gonna turn up in the river sometime later, what of it? Good riddance, goddamn moron kept me up half a night snoring and moaning about family and revenge in his sleep.”

Welp. “Tremper”. That sounds like a lead I’d like to investigate. Let’s pop in to Parsee and find out what sir Malachi knows about it.