Memoirs of Your Local Small-time Villainess-Chapter 407 - The gazebo

A slow, warm breath left Scarlett as she opened her eyes to the faint blush of dawn. The sky above the Loci’s garden was painted in rose and amber, the first light of morning stretching across the beds of vibrant colour. Traces of dew clung to the petals around her, and the air carried that clean, damp scent that followed a long night.

A gentle hum sounded nearby as a bee drifted lazily past her face, settling on a pale violet bloom at the edge of the gazebo. Its wings shimmered briefly before it disappeared deeper among the flowers.

Scarlett allowed herself a quiet moment to appreciate the sight before reaching for the [Pouch of Holding] on the table beside her. From it, she retrieved a folded cloth and three neatly arranged potions for stamina, mana, and healing each. She drank them in order, wincing slightly at the bitter tang, then used the cloth to wipe the last traces of sweat from her brow and arms. When she leaned back in her seat, she let the morning air wash over her skin.

Using the Stillwork of Shattered Glass really was far from a morning workout. She doubted she’d ever escape how thoroughly it drained her, both body and mind. It was also inconvenient that a full cycle consumed hours at a time. Outside of the Echo, devoting a quarter of each day to Stillwork simply wasn’t something she could afford to do often.

That was why she’d started before sunrise this time, so her practice wouldn’t clash with the rest of her plans. And of all the places to do it, the Loci’s garden felt ideal. It was warm, calm, and constantly infused with gentle ambient mana that eased her focus.

It would have been even easier with Rosa around, since her presence had a way of helping find the right mindset between Amy and Scarlett. But she couldn’t, in good conscience, make Rosa lose hours of sleep just to sit around doing nothing now that they were no longer in the Echo. For all her flaws, the woman deserved her rest.

Scarlett’s gaze drifted across the garden, over the magical arrays and infrastructure the imperial wizards had installed for the pylon. At the centre stood the Loci itself, its large, uncut emerald pulsing with changing colours within. Between her own work and the wizards’ additions, the garden had become a genuine hub of arcane and otherworldly energy.

Frankly, she was growing rather proud of it.

At the edge of her awareness, she felt the Loci’s presence brush against her thoughts, reaching towards her in its usual wordless way. There was a sense of attention—of something watching—but it still wasn’t quite what she’d call understanding. Whenever it acted on her commands, it was more like it absorbed the shape of her intent than followed actual reasoning.

Still, she couldn’t help wondering how long it would take before the Loci began thinking for itself.

“Slate,” she said, “do you believe the Loci will soon develop its own consciousness?”

A slight movement came from her left. Scarlett turned towards the pale, robed figure kneeling between the gazebo’s posts and the hedge beyond.

“What is defined as consciousness?” Slate asked, raising her green eyes to meet Scarlett’s.

“To think, to reason, and to act by one’s own will, I suppose.”

The girl tilted her head slightly. “Thought is a poorly defined framework. The Loci observes and adapts, but it does not decide. Does that mean it cannot have a consciousness?”

“It would depend on how you define those terms.”

“I define them by their definitions.”

“Language is rarely so precise,” Scarlett said.

Slate was silent for several seconds before nodding. “I understand. The Loci and I need to learn more.”

“Very well…” Scarlett watched her for a moment, then returned her attention to the garden.

Slate had already been there when Scarlett arrived, long before sunrise. That had been unexpected, honestly. When asked why, the girl had replied that she had ‘heard of bees’. Further questioning revealed she was curious about the hives they built — there was a small one beneath the gazebo deck that she’d been studying for hours.

As for the reason for the curiosity about hives specifically…that had been somewhat unclear.

Scarlett didn’t exactly mind. Encouraging curiosity was good. Though she did hope Slate would eventually learn to express herself more clearly.

For a time, Scarlett simply sat and listened to the quiet. The sun climbed higher, and from somewhere out of sight came faint birdsong. She’d heard that this was about when birds started returning to this part of the empire, coinciding with the start of the thaw. That was good news for the settlements still recovering from the monster attacks, though it would be some time before it grew warm enough to walk outside without an extra layer. Or without pyrokinesis.

Once the potions had eased the worst strain of the Stillwork, Scarlett willed the Loci to fetch Thainnith’s Array Forge from her office. The air shimmered, and a matte-grey cube appeared on the table before her. She pressed her thumb to its surface, and lines of runes flared to life, forming a complex lattice of light around her.

It was still early. She might as well use the time to study the Forge. She regretted not having brought it into the Echo.

“The human body does not function efficiently without sufficient rest,” came Slate’s even voice from the side.

Scarlett paused and turned to her. The girl was watching without expression. Then she blinked.

Once.

The action looked somewhat unnatural.

“…I am aware,” Scarlett said. “Thank you for the reminder.”

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Slate tilted her head again, then returned her attention to the hive.

Scarlett exhaled softly and turned back to the Forge. Waking early for this sort of thing probably wasn’t ideal, but it wasn’t as though she planned to do it every morning. She had several meetings later in the day, and this was the only quiet time she’d get. Besides, after months of Stillwork in the Echo, she’d grown used to functioning on limited sleep. It wasn’t pleasant, but it was manageable as long as she took a proper break now and then.

She lost herself in her work. By the time she thought to check, the sun had fully risen. When hunger began to intrude, she asked Garside to bring tea and breakfast, but otherwise remained focused.

It wasn’t until she heard the crunch of footsteps on the gravel path that she finally looked up.

Fynn was walking towards the gazebo, frowning as he tugged at his white hair. The back of it had been plaited into a short braid, though he looked to be undoing it. Scarlett’s mouth curved slightly at the strange sight.

By the time he reached her, the braid was gone, his hair returned to its usual, slightly untidy state.

“Are you...experimenting with hairstyles, Fynn?” she asked.

“Kat and Allyssa forced me to,” he muttered. “They said I’d like it.”

“Did you?”

He frowned. “No.”

“Understandable. I do not particularly enjoy braiding my hair either.”

Judging by his expression, he found that entirely natural. He glanced over at Slate. “They said you’re the next victim. You should be careful.”

Slate looked up from beneath the gazebo. “Do they intend to harm me?”

“Your hair,” Fynn said.

“My hair is not alive. It cannot be harmed.”

“My hair hurts when it’s pulled.”

Slate’s brow knitted, as if thinking that through. After a short pause, she nodded. “I understand. I will avoid Kat Breeden and Allyssa Astrey to avoid harm. How long should I maintain this caution?”

Fynn shrugged. “I don’t know. Allyssa forgets things quickly, but maybe not Kat.”

“That is an incomplete answer.”

“Sorry.”

“I will accept your apology.”

Scarlett looked between the two of them.

…She wondered, briefly, if she should put Fynn in charge of helping Slate adjust to things. He seemed to be the one who understood her best, aside from Nol’viz.

“That aside,” Scarlett said, “what are you here for, Fynn?”

He turned to her. “Nothing.”

And with that, he sat down cross-legged on the gazebo floor like he was about to start meditating — but instead, he simply watched her.

“…I see.” Scarlett glanced between him and Slate again.

Maybe it wasn’t so strange that the two of them got along.

She returned her focus to the Array Forge, carefully controlling her mana. The process had become noticeably easier since her veins had been upgraded. She still leaned on Thainnith’s legacy when she hit a wall, but progress came faster now.

Nearly an hour passed before she finally decided she’d done enough and needed a proper break. She deactivated the Forge and sent it back to her office, then looked at Fynn again.

“Are you certain that there is nothing?” she asked.

He hadn’t looked away from her once during the entire session.

Fynn actually seemed to consider the question, then he gestured vaguely at her. “Something’s different about you.”

Scarlett arched a brow. “Is that so?”

He must have sensed her upgraded mana veins. That was unexpected. No time had passed in the outside world while they were in the Echo, and this was the first time they’d met since she and Rosa returned the day before. Unless she went out of her way to demonstrate it, even an experienced mage would probably have trouble detecting that kind of change.

Then again, Fynn was Fynn.

“I recently learned a new technique,” she said. “It involved a space similar to those in the Hall of Echoes. For me, it has been well over a month since we last met. During that time, I improved my mana veins significantly. I suspect that is what you are sensing.”

A flicker of surprise crossed his face, then faded. He was quiet for a moment.

“Okay,” he eventually said.

Apparently, that was all he wanted to know. He closed his eyes and began meditating.

It continued to amaze Scarlett how unbothered he could be about most things.

She watched him for a while longer, her thoughts drifting to what lay ahead. There was that ‘celebration’ taking place in Elystead in a couple of weeks, which she’d said she would likely attend. Before that came dozens of matters to settle — hammering out the details with Raimond’s and Arnaud’s factions, preparing contingencies in case Leon or anyone else accused her of harming the princess or of involvement in the Beld Thylelion affair, assessing the Cabal’s current stance towards her, investigating how the unravelling of Fate had affected the world and affected the gods’ influence, and more besides.

“Fynn,” she said. His eyes opened. “What is the situation with your ancestors?”

“It’s fine,” he replied.

“Fine?” She couldn’t quite hide her doubt. “That was not the impression I got in Beld Thylelion.”

He was silent for a few seconds. “They calmed down after I killed myself.”

Scarlett blinked. “…Killed yourself?”

“Yes. One of those reflections was an older me. I killed him. Then they calmed down.”

She pressed a hand to her temple. “Fynn, that does not qualify as ‘killing’ yourself. Please be mindful with your phrasing.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Ensure that you do,” she said, without much confidence that he would.

She studied him a moment longer. “…Do you know why they calmed down?”

“I don’t.” Fynn touched the bone-white ring on his finger. “I told them I’d keep getting stronger, but in my own way. Then I killed him.”

“And they accepted that?”

“They did.” He frowned faintly. “They’ll probably complain again eventually. I’ll just tell them the same thing.”

“That may not be the wisest approach,” Scarlett said. “Ignoring them has caused trouble before.”

“I think I can handle it this time.”

She held his gaze, seeing the certainty there. He really believed it. Whether it was possible or not, he’d clearly found some kind of resolution this once. Still…

“Do you not wish to complete the second trial and undergo your next awakening?” she asked.

“It doesn’t matter to me.”

“It matters to me.” Scarlett tapped a finger against the table. “If we plan properly, we could complete it within a day next week. I am meeting a Kilnstone official later today to discuss the barony’s access. If necessary, I can arrange transport to the Whitdown Mountains.”

Even nobles struggled to secure Kilnstone passage right now, especially to anywhere outside the main cities. That difficulty would only worsen as the Empyreal Barrier’s completion neared. Fortunately, the Hartford barony had contributed heavily both to the empire and to several of the groups associated with the network, and Evelyne had managed to secure a few reliable contacts. Scarlett intended to make full use of that goodwill while it lasted.

“We don’t have to,” Fynn said. “I’ll be fine.”

Scarlett studied him. “This would be a chance to see your family again. That will become far more difficult once the Barrier is complete.”

He went quiet. His eyes remained on his ring. Finally, he lowered his head in a nod. “Okay.”

“Good. I will make the necessary arrangements.”

It would be good for him to complete his second awakening, and Scarlett had her own reasons to return to the Whitdown Mountains before the opportunity closed.

She paused, a thoughtful crease forming between her brows. It might even be worth bringing Nol’viz along. It would require safeguards to prevent the Cabal girl from escaping while they were outside the estate, but having her present could prove interesting considering what waited there.

She’d look into the possibility. There was at least a week to prepare. Plenty of time to make it work. And, of course, to handle all the other matters demanding her attention.

Her gaze shifted back to Slate, still crouched beneath the gazebo.

“Slate,” she said. “What is your opinion on doing business with demons?”

“I do not have one,” the homunculus replied, attention returning to her.

“Then be prepared that we may have to engage in something of that nature soon.”

Malachi had made it clear that she wanted Scarlett’s assistance in wielding the Tribute of Dominion. And if the time ever came when beings such as gods or the like turned against her, Scarlett would not refuse having a Vile on her side.