Memoirs of Your Local Small-time Villainess-Chapter 412 - Invitation

Mistress let the gate fold closed behind her with a lazy flick of her wrist. The crimson-lined hem of her robes swept across the floor as she turned, the marble of her mask catching the light.

“Mistress,” Scarlett said.

A pleased hum rolled out of the woman. “That’s me. Mmm. How I do enjoy people saying it out loud, though. Go on — once more for me?”

Scarlett stayed silent.

“No? Pity.” Mistress sighed. “Ah well. Once is enough.”

She drifted forward, stopping neatly between Scarlett and Malachi. Her gaze wandered across the room—taking in the shifted furniture, the glowing runes along the walls, the two hulking demons, Fynn’s tense posture—and came to rest on Rosa for a heartbeat longer than comfort allowed.

“She’s raised you rather well, hasn’t she? Anguish’s little chew toy no longer. Good for you.”

Rosa looked unsure what to say. “…Thanks?”

“Don’t mind it.” Mistress waved a hand as if dismissing her own words, then turned her masked face towards Scarlett. “As always, Baroness, you keep an eclectic mix of company. But I can’t help feeling something’s missing.”

Scarlett watched her. “Why are you here, Mistress?”

Mistress pressed a gloved hand to her chest. “Why, I thought I was invited.”

“You were not.”

“No?” She turned to Malachi. “Then I suppose I can’t be blamed for assuming. This one really should do a better job keeping her Material-Realm rendezvous quieter if she doesn’t want people noticing.”

Malachi’s jaw tightened.

“I will give you credit, though,” Mistress went on. “You’ve improved at sniffing out which of your slaves are leaking secrets. I’m down to…oh, a dozen informants left in your domain? At this rate, I’ll have to start bribing your imps with soul-dreg mucilage. Tragic.”

Scarlett’s eyes narrowed at Malachi. “…Our meetings are compromised?”

“They most certainly are,” Mistress answered readily in the woman’s place.

Scarlett frowned. That could—

“Oh, but only by me,” Mistress added lightly. “Don’t look so grim. I only knew our dear aspiring Vile was meeting someone she probably shouldn’t. From there—” she tapped one ruby eye on her mask, “—even the dimmest seer could add one and one.”

Her gaze wandered again, lingering wherever it pleased.

“Now then,” she said. “What wonderfully sordid little dealings were you two tangled in? And how do we make the evening more interesting, now that we have three women of unspeakable consequence sharing one charming parlour?” She paused, tilting her head. “…Well. Two and a half.”

No one answered.

Scarlett glanced at Malachi, noting the twitch in her fingers, before returning her attention to Mistress. It had been some time since she’d last seen the woman. Back then, Mistress hadn’t shown much interest in involving herself in Scarlett’s affairs going forward. What reason would she have to show up now, of all times? It was unlikely to be coincidence.

When no one spoke, Mistress looked between the two of them. “I do hope you’re not planning to give me the silent treatment after I bothered expending all that effort coming here. I’m a busy woman.”

Eventually, Rosa raised a hand. “…Purely academically, who’s the ‘half’ woman of consequence?”

Mistress’s lips curved beneath the mask. “Why, Malachi, naturally. I’d have said two before, but since your Baroness here went and conquered Beld Thylelion, I felt generous enough to bump her up half a rung.”

“Malachi becoming a Vile and ruling an entire Blaze doesn’t count for anything, then?”

“Half a Vile,” Mistress corrected. “Half a demon makes half a lady and only half a personage, so I can’t in good conscience promote her beyond that, can I?”

“You—” Malachi began.

“Ah, ah.” Mistress raised a single finger. A shimmer rippled through her mask’s gems. Malachi’s mouth kept moving, but no sound emerged. “You know I don’t particularly mind your tantrums, but we are in polite company. Let’s agree to keep things somewhat civil, hmm?”

Malachi’s eyes blazed green with fury. Her demons rumbled, claws scraping against the floor.

“Now that is just absolutely precious,” Mistress murmured, watching them. Her head turned towards Fynn. “Does your pet still growl as well, Baroness, or has he outgrown that?”

A low growl answered her.

“Good. A Grehaldrael that acts civilised isn’t much fun.”

A sickly green haze flared around Malachi as her voice snapped back into being. “Do that again and I’ll tear those rubies out of your skull and shove them down your slit throat.”

Mistress turned back to her, regarded her for a moment, then gave a soft, delighted laugh. “I so enjoy our rapport, Malachi.”

“That is because you are depraved.”

“Mm. Harsh, but fair and true. I do question my own inclinations on the rare days I bother acting as though I have a conscience.” She clapped once. “But let’s focus on what’s important in the present, shall we?”

A staff appeared in her hand, capped with a faintly glowing azure gem. The light pulsed. A touch of surprise crossed her lips before turning into another amused smile. She faced Scarlett. “I must say, I’m impressed with what you’ve done to this place since I last visited.”

Scarlett’s gaze flicked to the staff before meeting Mistress’ eyes. “Did you just attempt to scry my estate?”

“I did. Imagine my shock when it didn’t work.” Mistress chuckled. “Your dainty house spirit has become remarkably adept at blocking even local divinations. And I couldn’t help but notice that you’ve made a few of your own adjustments to the pylon in your garden.”

“I had no intention of leaving you a convenient means to spy on me in my own home,” Scarlett said evenly.

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She had paid close attention to the pylon arrays precisely because Mistress had been involved in their original development. While she wasn’t as familiar with modern spell-architecture, Thainnith’s legacy had taught her enough to layer her own safeguards atop what already existed.

“Naughty girl,” Mistress purred.

Scarlett ignored her.

The staff vanished from the woman’s grasp. “You really are going to make me do this the conventional way, aren’t you?” Mistress shuddered theatrically. “Using words.”

“Do what?” Scarlett asked.

Mistress didn’t answer immediately. She studied her for a few seconds. “Tell me, Baroness — how was Beld Thylelion? I always imagined it must be dreadfully dreary. Old Thainnith was brilliant, but for all the riveting creations he fashioned, his taste was a tragedy. All boring form, and where there was flair, one can’t help questioning its purpose.”

Scarlett folded her arms. “What makes you so certain I was the one who conquered Beld Thylelion?”

Mistress lifted a hand in mild exasperation. “Let’s not play the fool, please. I already get enough of that from the dried-up fossils in this empire’s diet. I really don’t think I should have to explain the obvious to you.” Her tone turned flippant. “Even if I hadn’t known of your interest in the place, I do know none of the empire’s factions claimed the Tribute of Dominion. And if the Undead Council or the Hallowed Cabal had taken it, I’d have noticed — what with the inevitable panic, screaming, and divine temper tantrums.” She ticked fingers in the air. “Four plausible candidates, by my count. And my money’s always been on you.”

Scarlett’s brow tightened slightly.

“Not that I mind,” Mistress continued. “I did say before I never intended to claim the Tribute myself. I considered it—mainly for the satisfaction of prying it from that decaying carcass of a man and his Cabal—but then I thought, why bother? You’d do it for me.” She spread her hands with a grin in her voice. “And look at that. Mistress was right again. Your knack for inconveniencing decrepit cesspits once called men remains one of your better traits, Baroness.”

“…I cannot tell whether that was meant as a compliment.”

“I’d take it as one. Unless you’re feeling particularly prudish today.”

Scarlett’s expression only worsened.

Mistress chuckled once more. Her gaze swept across the walls as if peering through them. “With that said, I imagine you must be rather keen on ensuring the Cabal never realises you’re the one holding the Tribute.”

“…Is that a threat?”

“It’s a statement of fact. Now, are you truly going to keep it hidden from me? I’m not going to gobble it up.” There was a short pause. “…Probably.”

“I will not introduce you to the Tribute.”

“Grouch. Fine. I promise I won’t devour your precious Tribute. There. Happy?”

“No.”

Mistress’ lips flattened. “You are no fun today, are you? I usually expect better from you.”

“Mistress,” Scarlett said, patience thinning. “Enough games. Why are you here?”

For a moment, the woman fell silent. The air around her seemed to still, her playfulness sharpening into something colder. Her gaze flicked to Malachi, then back to Scarlett. “…I’m curious,” she finally said. “Have either of you noticed anything…strange lately? Odd changes?”

Malachi laughed without humour. “A useless question.”

“I suppose.” Mistress kept her focus on Scarlett. “What do you think, Baroness?”

Scarlett studied the ruby eyes set in marble. “What changes are you referring to?”

Mistress’s tone turned coy again. “If I wanted to give you the answer, I wouldn’t bother asking, would I?”

“…When would these supposed changes have begun?”

“Oh, I don’t know.” She tapped her chin. “Perhaps around the time you returned from Beld Thylelion. Pure coincidence, I’m sure.”

“And you would know when that was, because…?”

“Because I, unlike most, possess enough functioning matter between my ears to approximate something you might call a brain.”

Scarlett considered her silently.

She assumed Mistress was referring to Fate’s unravelling. To the stirrings among divinity that might soon try to influence the Material Realm.

“I am afraid I still cannot say what changes you mean,” Scarlett said. “Perhaps they exist, but I have yet to witness their effects myself.”

“The blindfold act?” Mistress muttered. “How tidy for you. Normally, I’d applaud the courage to try it before me, but it’s considerably less charming when you’re my only source of actual answers.”

Scarlett’s brow arched.

When Mistress spoke again, her tone shed all remaining traces of playfulness. “Baroness, I want to know what you did in Beld Thylelion.”

Scarlett’s eyes widened slightly.

Mistress…didn’t know? She hadn’t figured out that Scarlett had killed Fate?

That was honestly unexpected. The woman always pretended omniscience while giving the impression she was looking at the board from above. To find her ignorant of Fate’s death was a surprise. Especially when she clearly knew Scarlett had the Tribute.

Scarlett met the masked gaze fixed on her, then glanced at Malachi, who had suddenly swallowed her anger and was now also watching Scarlett with a quiet, predatory interest.

Eventually, Scarlett exhaled, a faint scoff escaping her. “I never took you for someone so naive as to expect me to simply tell you, Mistress. Would you share such information if I came knocking at your door and asked so openly?”

Mistress let the silence stretch, then clicked her tongue. “I did entertain the possibility you might be softer than I thought, actually. Few self-serving nobles waste enough coin to bankrupt a small kingdom propping up the destitute and war-scarred masses of domains outside their own, after all.”

“Once again, I cannot tell whether to take that as a compliment or an insult.”

“Almost certainly the latter this time,” Mistress said. Her staff reappeared with a soft crack of displaced air, its butt tapping the floor as the gem flared. “Would you be terribly put out if I simply pried the answer from you?”

Scarlett went still. Her voice dropped. “You could try.”

Mistress laughed quietly. “Darling, it’s adorable that you think I ever resign myself to merely trying anything. And if you believe Malachi tips the scales in your favour here, you are vastly overestimating her reach on the Material.”

She flicked a finger. Malachi and her two fiends vanished.

Pressure swelled like an unseen storm.

“I do hope you understand,” Mistress said, “how profoundly uncharacteristic it is of me to admit even a moderately favourable opinion of someone. It would be a shame to ruin that because you can’t assess your own limits.”

Scarlett didn’t flinch under the increased pressure.

Fynn and Rosa both tensed, ready to move.

The Loci pulsed, its presence pushing back.

Scarlett snapped her fingers.

A single sphere of white flame ignited between her and Mistress.

“It is precisely because I understand how uncharacteristic that admission is,” Scarlett said, “that I will overlook this threat. But I do not believe I am the one misjudging my limits.”

Mistress’s gaze dropped to the flame. The gem in her staff flickered, and for a long moment the room seemed to hold its breath.

Then her lips twitched faintly. 𝗳𝚛𝗲𝕖𝕨𝕖𝗯𝚗𝚘𝕧𝕖𝗹.𝗰𝗼𝕞

“…I stand corrected. I’ll confess, I was wro—” She grimaced, cutting herself off. “Ugh. No, that will have to suffice. You have an infuriating habit of almost making me feel something resembling genuine respect, Baroness. It’s rather irksome, given I have no use for the feeling.”

Scarlett didn’t lower the flame. Despite its mundane appearance, someone like Mistress would be able to tell. This was [Argent Pyrokinesis] compressed to its limit — the entirety of Scarlett’s magical might condensed into a single, blinding point.

Could she win in a fight against this woman?

She couldn’t say.

But, at the very least, she could pose a threat.

And Mistress clearly hadn’t expected that.

The light in the staff’s gem dimmed. The pressure in the room thinned. Mistress stepped back. “I did think you were growing at an impressive pace,” she said casually, “but this particular leap borders on absurd, wouldn’t you agree? Credit where credit’s due, though. You’ve been busy.”

Scarlett watched her for a moment longer, searching for any flicker of renewed hostility. There was none. Mistress truly seemed to have relented.

“I have had little other choice,” Scarlett replied.

Mistress gave a low hum. “And here I thought I would pry the truth out of you and settle that little mystery before supper. I could bargain for the answer, I suppose, but my pride’s taken enough of a beating for one day.” She waved a hand. “I’ll find my answers elsewhere.”

Scarlett extinguished her flame, then gestured for Fynn and Rosa to stand down. “If that is all, I would appreciate it if you returned Malachi and allowed us to resume our discussion.”

Mistress tapped the end of her staff against the floor. The air warped briefly, and Malachi reappeared, glaring daggers at her.

Though she didn’t attack.

Scarlett hadn’t realised it before, but maybe Malachi was aware she couldn’t do much against Mistress in this realm. Had she tried it once before?

“Oh, that wasn’t all, though,” Mistress said, ignoring Malachi’s murderous stare. “I didn’t come merely for gossip and theatrics. There’s something larger on the horizon, and I thought I’d extend an invitation.”

Scarlett’s expression sharpened. “An invitation? To what?”

Mistress’ lips parted in another smile. “To our own illustrious gala.”