Memoirs of Your Local Small-time Villainess-Chapter 413 - Darling’s gala

Scarlett regarded Mistress without attempting to hide her suspicion. “A gala?”

“Yes,” the woman replied. “Ever heard of the term? Usually involves rather questionable music, far too many dresses, unhealthy quantities of alcohol to wash down the social pretence, and—if one’s lucky—a bit of special entertainment on the side.”

“I am familiar with what a gala is.”

“Spectacular. It would have been dreadfully embarrassing otherwise. So, what do you say? Fancy hosting and attending one?”

“I would prefer,” Scarlett said, “that you clarify what you mean. I assume you are not referring to an actual gala.”

Mistress flicked her hand. “It could be, if that’s what you’d prefer. I am prepared to be accommodating that way. But no, I don’t mean a literal gathering of overdressed aristocrats and vapid socialites. There are precious few such events I could stomach attending without accidentally incinerating someone after a single round of insipid conversation.”

Scarlett arched a faint brow at her.

“Oh, don’t give me that look. I’m sure you’re the same.”

“I have never genuinely considered incinerating someone simply because I spoke with them. In your case, however, I do not believe that was hyperbole.”

“No, it wasn’t. Though the cleanup would be dreadful, so I have, thankfully, managed to restrain myself. Regardless, what I’m proposing is something considerably more interesting than anything this empire’s nobility could dream of arranging.” Mistress’ masked gaze drifted between Scarlett and Malachi. “I’m talking about a gala of the divine.”

Scarlett stilled.

Malachi’s eyes narrowed to slits.

“…What, precisely, do you mean by that?” Scarlett asked.

“Sadly, not quite what it sounds like,” Mistress replied lightly. “As entertaining as it would be to host an actual gathering for the gods, that would be functionally impossible. They can’t manifest here, and I’d rather flay myself thrice over than step foot in one of their domains.”

“Get to the point,” Malachi snapped.

Mistress’ ruby eyes glimmered behind the mask as she smiled at the interruption. “Fine. I’ll spare you the rest of the overture. We’ll skip the part where we pretend we’re not all aware the gods are growing more active — or that the same isn’t true for those Viles who’ve had a good few millennia, rather than, say, half a year, to dig in, weave their networks, and properly establish themselves. So, to be efficient, let me present to the both of you my little suggestion: how the three of us might make use of all this divine and profane fuss to prepare, and to be one quiet step ahead of everyone else by the time they realise the board has already shifted.”

She turned her attention back to Scarlett. “You see, Baroness, the rules of divinity are… tedious things. Convoluted. Obscenely dull. Written by committee, which should tell you everything. Contrary to popular belief, the gods are far less influential than even the Viles in most affairs that matter. And yet, for all their idiocy, those rules were absolutely necessary at one point in time.”

Scarlett nodded along slowly. That was actually not too much of a surprise to her. She already knew that the gods’ interference in mortal affairs had been limited. At least in recent centuries.

Mistress re-summoned her staff, leaning on it. “Tell me, Baroness. Who do you think established those rules?”

Scarlett considered it for a moment. “Have they not existed since this world’s inception?”

There wasn’t any information on the matter within Thainnith’s legacy, nor could she recall anything relevant from the game. If she were to guess, she would have assumed some entity like Fate or The Other had set them in place at creation.

Mistress shook her head. “No. They were decided upon by the gods themselves — though you wouldn’t believe it, given how absurdly restrictive they are.”

“Are they truly that limiting?”

A brief curl of distaste crossed Mistress’s visible mouth. “Anything that binds power is limiting. Anything that tells me what I may not do is intolerable.”

“…Is that so.”

It was probably best to take her words with a measure of caution, then. Mistress was one to resent any form of rule on principle alone.

“But how does this relate to your supposed gala?” Scarlett asked.

Mistress lifted her hand lightly. “Baroness, how many times do you think the rules of divinity have changed?”

“I was not aware they had changed at all.”

“No, I gathered as much. A pity. Still, you can hazard a guess.”

Scarlett frowned in thought. “Twice?”

“Close. Three times.” Mistress raised three fingers. “The rules have changed three times in total. The first was shortly after the earliest gods appeared and forged the initial accords with the Idols — the primitive foundations of what would become the ‘outer realms’. The second came once the Material Realm settled and became a battlefield for gods, Idols, and the newborn Viles. Chaos reigned until a few powerful mortals struck accords with the most powerful gods to introduce some measure of stability. The arrangement was crude and heavily in the gods’ favour, but it worked.”

She lowered her hand, tapping a finger against the crown of her staff. It released an almost inaudible hum that filled the brief quiet. “The third time was when mortals finally decided they’d had enough of relying on gods to solve every problem for them. Through means so elaborate they still blur the line between history and myth, they overturned the old order and imposed a new one that defined how gods, demons, Idols, and every other outsider could interact with this plane. The mortals responsible became intermediaries of sorts between their world and the divine. If you were to hazard another guess, Baroness, what do you think the aftermath of this event came to be called?”

Scarlett thought back through what she knew of this world’s history, and she could only think of one thing that roughly fit. “…The Veil of Convergence.”

It was the same barrier that was supposed to keep demons from freely crossing into the Material Realm. According to Yamina Ward, alongside the world’s fundamental architecture and Fate itself, the Veil was what limited the gods’ influence outside their domains.

Mistress gave her a satisfied look. “Quite right.”

“That would mean,” Scarlett said slowly, “that the mortals responsible for that third alteration were the Zuverian divinarchs.”

She knew for a fact that Thainnith had been involved in erecting the Veil of Convergence.

“Another correct deduction, Baroness.” Mistress inclined her head. “The divinarchs established the rules that still bind the gods to this day.”

Scarlett’s gaze sharpened. “Then your intention is to hold this ‘gala’ in order to change those rules again. A fourth time.”

Mistress’ smile returned. “And there it is. Precisely.”

“Why?”

A low laugh slipped from her. “You can’t expect me to count all the possible reasons. There are far too many. But if you’d like a few notables…” She continued tapping the staff. “Power, naturally. I’ve always been fond of it — why pretend otherwise? Then pride, because watching the self-proclaimed divine choke on their own arrogance would be endlessly satisfying. Curiosity, because I find the idea of shifting the foundations of Material reality rather amusing. And finally, if I’m being honest, a petty refusal to let a group of long-dead arch mages remain the last mortals to reshape existence’s laws. I never liked most of them.”

Scarlett observed her without speaking.

Mistress tilted her head, almost teasing. “Ah, a tad too self-absorbed for your tastes? My apologies. I’m still deciding how much of your altruism is real and how much is performance covering self-centredness. If you prefer a nobler reason, then let’s say…the current order has grown thin. The Veil is fraying, and the rules no longer fit the world they’re meant to govern. Someone ought to have stepped in decades ago. I just happen to be volunteering us three.”

“Is that true?” Scarlett asked.

“Believe it or not, yes.” Mistress gestured towards Malachi’s demons. “The Viles have long since been slipping around the Veil in their own ways, and it would seem the gods might now have found a similar avenue. Establishing new rules to maintain some semblance of order in this realm would be common sense — and common sense often makes a decent excuse. Though I’ve always preferred undisguised ambition.”

Scarlett studied the two women, then glanced briefly at the demons before returning her focus to Mistress.

The woman really was asking her to help rewrite the rules of an entire realm. And it all came so suddenly, with barely any warning.

A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

But why?

The motives she’d listed were believable, even as conceited as they had been. They fit Mistress perfectly.

And yet, they didn’t align with what Scarlett remembered of the woman’s priorities.

Mistress’ goal had always been the destruction of the Blazes. Nothing else. That was her quiet obsession, her fixation. In the game, every one of her schemes had led back to that purpose. She’d been willing to sacrifice the Material Realm itself to see it done, if necessary.

But this wasn’t that.

Scarlett was fairly certain this was something separate from that goal. A new direction.

She’d used the [Orrery of Divergence] to gauge Mistress’ deviation from Fate before, and the result had been surprisingly ordinary. While Mistress diverged slightly, it hadn’t been anywhere close to the levels Scarlett had seen in certain others, suggesting her ambitions back then hadn’t strayed far from what they’d been in the game. Very little in her actions had suggested a shift, either.

Until now.

So what had changed?

Maybe this was the first visible result of Fate’s dissolution. Scarlett expected that to start making itself known eventually, and it was something she was prepared for. The problem was that she couldn’t quite see where this would lead. Mistress had been unpredictable even when Scarlett understood her intentions, after all. Unbound by Fate, she could become something far more dangerous.

At the same time, that sort of unpredictability was exactly the kind of factor Scarlett would prefer to keep in her corner, when possible.

“Is there a reason you’ve come to us about this?” she asked.

“Other than a sudden bout of generosity?”

“Other than that.”

“The Tribute of Dominion, of course.” Mistress’ mask tilted towards Malachi. “And I suppose having the cooperation of a newly minted Vile wouldn’t hurt either.”

Malachi’s expression soured. “You ‘suppose’?”

“To be perfectly frank, the Baroness would likely be enough. But since we’re all such…well, not friends, certainly, but associates, it would feel rather rude to leave you out.”

“I don’t care for your courtesy,” Malachi said. “And I know better than to trust your word.”

Mistress chuckled. “Oh, as if trust has ever been the foundation of our delightful little collaborations. No, I imagine we’ll work something more binding into place. Something suitably dramatic to keep our eternal selves from tearing each other apart when someone inevitably steps left instead of right.”

Malachi’s gaze tightened into something colder, yet more calculating. “You’d agree to a pact?”

“Is that so surprising? I’ve made plenty with demons before, haven’t I?”

“Not with a Vile.”

Mistress’s tone turned almost curious. “Now, I do wonder how you know that. But you’re not wrong. Consider it proof that I’m more invested in this proposal than you might think.”

Malachi didn’t answer right away. After a moment, she lifted one hand. Behind her, the demon missing an arm thrust its remaining claw into its own chest. A wet, sharp sound cut through the parlour as the smell of scorched blood filled the air. When it pulled its hand free, it clutched a scrap of hide, slick with black ichor.

Malachi took the piece and extended it towards Mistress.

The masked woman examined it. “Useful as they are, I think one of the first rules I’d like to rewrite is your pacts. There’s no infernal law stating they have to be so grotesque.”

Still, she accepted it without hesitation. Bringing her thumb to her mouth, she bit down until blood welled, then pressed it to the parchment. A dark green shimmer rippled across the surface as symbols flared to life.

“I will not consciously lie or speak falsehoods regarding this matter for the remainder of this conversation,” she said.

At once, the hide burned away, the ashes dissolving before they reached the floor. A faint crest appeared on the back of her hand, then vanished.

Malachi eyed the spot and clicked her tongue in mild irritation.

Mistress ignored her, turning back to Scarlett. “That should help soothe a few of your doubts as well, Baroness.”

“There are still several ways to circumvent such an oath,” Scarlett said.

Mistress sighed and rubbed a finger along the edge of her mask. “I do hope you’re not being difficult purely for the pleasure of it now.”

“I did not say I doubted the truthfulness of your words today.” Scarlett watched her for several seconds. “What is it that you need the Tribute for?”

“If we’re going to alter the laws that shape this realm, we’ll need something with authority equal to those laws,” Mistress replied. “The last time, the divinarchs worked with the gods and Idols to anchor their work through various tricks and deals, but that came with all manner of concessions. I’ve no interest in repeating their compromises. The Tribute of Dominion strikes me as a far more delectable alternative.”

“And how exactly do you intend to use its power?”

“With great delight.” She pointed towards the windows. “And, of course, with the conveniently expansive network of arcane pylons the empire has been kind enough to leave lying about. A half-continent of ready-made conduits. Truly generous of them.”

Scarlett glanced through the windows and towards the Loci’s garden beyond. She already knew Mistress had access to the network and likely intended to use it for her own ends. Scarlett hadn’t objected, provided the pylons’ original function remained intact and the woman lacked the final pieces needed to carry out her plans.

But she hadn’t expected to be directly involved in repurposing them herself.

Technically, that probably counted as another crime worthy of execution under imperial law.

It was starting to feel like she was collecting those.

Her gaze returned to Mistress. “Do you intend to use the pylons to harm the empire or its people?”

She could have sworn the woman’s eyebrows lifted behind the mask.

“Is this the interrogation portion? Very well. No, I don’t intend to harm the empire or its people. Nor do I have any reason to think my use of the pylons will do so. Rewriting the laws of the divine may have side effects, but so does every worthwhile act. You, as my collaborator, would have a say in shaping those laws — meaning you’d share the responsibility if something went wrong. I find that keeps everyone honest.” Mistress smirked. “Have I tried to mislead you at any point here? Yes. Several times, probably, but I haven’t bothered to count. I’m sure your Grehaldrael is wringing his brain trying to tease out which lies were which, and if you give him some time later, maybe he’ll figure out one or two of them. But on what matters, I’ve been unusually straightforward.”

Scarlett held back a scoff. Mistress’ earlier oath would only have applied to the gala matter. Nothing else. She could have lied freely about anything else. And as she’d implied, Fynn’s ability to discern truths wasn’t especially effective on her.

But honestly, that wasn’t Scarlett’s concern right now.

“What would it mean to rewrite these rules?” she asked. “What do I gain beyond hubris and ambition for power? I have no aspirations to teach divinity who is in charge.”

“Come now. I simply refuse to believe you’re that dull or unimaginative,” the woman replied. “That said, what you want this to accomplish would be up to you. We could decree that gods may never step into this realm again. Or that they always may. We could decide incarnates cease to exist entirely, if you want that bard of yours freed of her burden. Or we could…adjust other things. It will be up to us to decide which rules we attempt to reshape. What respectable lady wouldn’t want to toy with an opportunity like that?”

Scarlett’s gaze shifted to Rosa. The bard met her eyes, holding them for several seconds, before Scarlett turned back to Mistress. “Would these rules be limited to beings such as gods, Viles, and Idols?”

“Mostly. Though that is already plenty, believe me.”

She considered that.

What concerned her most was whether this could be leveraged against threats like The Other, the Anomalous One, or groups such as the Hallowed Cabal or Undead Council. She couldn’t say for certain whether it could even touch them. That depended on the scope of the mechanism itself.

“You make carrying this out sound simple,” she said. “I somehow doubt that it will be.”

“You’re right to doubt.” Mistress’ tone brightened. “Viles and gods alike would try to stop us if they learned of this. I expect it would be terribly thrilling.”

“That does not sound thrilling.”

“No? Then perhaps you’ve clashed with one too many of either already, Baroness.” Another knowing smirk curved beneath the mask.

Scarlett ignored it, glancing at Malachi. “Most would be concerned that you choose to extend a proposal like this to one of the Viles themselves.”

The half-demon’s eyes hardened.

Mistress flicked her gaze between them. “We can still exclude her, if you prefer. She would be useful, but I have ways to keep her silent if necessary.”

“You’d dare—” Malachi started, but Mistress raised a finger, and the half-demon snapped her jaw shut, glowering.

Mistress returned her attention to Scarlett.

Satisfied, Mistress turned back to Scarlett. “So? Has the intrigue settled in yet? I rarely have to genuinely negotiate over something I can’t simply take, so forgive me if my persuasive habits are outdated. Still, as long as you hold the Tribute, you’ll have the power to end this whenever you please, however ill-advised that would be. Should you decide this was all a terrible idea, you can simply stop. I would be left holding the pieces, and I can’t speak for my actions at that point, but I would be hard-pressed to force you.”

Scarlett’s expression didn’t change. “Is that supposed to be comforting?”

“Did it not sound like it?”

“No.”

“Then I will have to work on that for next time.”

“When would that be?”

“When we meet again to discuss details properly. I’ll need your tentative agreement before I proceed further. I assume you’ll want time to deliberate, and I have preparations to make.”

“My tentative agreement would be enough for now?”

“Yes.”

Scarlett was silent for several seconds. Then she inclined her head. “Very well.”

She’d at least see where this led. Once she understood the structure and scope of what Mistress intended, she could decide whether to continue.

Mistress looked pleased. She glanced at Malachi. “Ah, and what was your stance on her?”

Scarlett felt the weight of Malachi’s scrutiny settle on her.

It seemed pretty obvious to her that a Vile, regardless of how cooperative, shouldn’t be given free rein in something like this. But considering that Scarlett effectively held veto power, and that she had her own uses for Malachi…

“It would be wise to include her for the time being,” she said. “If she is willing.”

Malachi’s gaze sharpened, but after a moment, she dipped her head as well. “I will consider it.”

Mistress released her staff and clapped her hands together. “Marvellous. To think we’d all cooperate so swimmingly. That makes my work far easier.”

“When do you want this next meeting?” Scarlett asked.

Mistress tapped her chin. “Hmm. Were you aware they’re holding a celebration in Elystead in a few weeks? For the completion of the Empyreal Barrier?”

Scarlett paused, looking briefly at Rosa. “I was.”

“Sounds like a perfect opportunity to me.”

Scarlett searched Mistress’ face. “…Perhaps. Assuming I am available.”

“Please.” Mistress waved a hand. “If you’re not, I’ll fetch you myself. What’s a little teleportation between us?”

“We will see how it is arranged, then.”

Scarlett didn’t feel it necessary to mention that she already intended to attend the celebration.

“Then that settles things.” Mistress gripped her staff with both hands as mana flowed, a faint shimmer of gold outlining a forming gate behind her. The Loci acted to suppress the magic, but Scarlett stopped the interference.

“Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to take my leave. I left something…rather significant running when I noticed our dear Malachi sneaking off, and I can’t have that collapsing on its own.” Just as Mistress was about to step through, she stopped and looked back at Scarlett. “Before I go — humour my curiosity. You didn’t happen to run into any errant imperial royalty while running around in Beld Thylelion, did you?”

Scarlett kept her expression neutral. “No, I did not.”

For a moment, Mistress regarded her. Then her lips curved beneath the mask. “If you say so.”

And with that, she vanished through the gate. The lingering traces of her magic faded.

Malachi’s demons were the first to break the silence, releasing low snarls.

“She never ceases to frustrate,” Malachi said. 𝙛𝒓𝓮𝒆𝔀𝒆𝙗𝓷𝒐𝙫𝒆𝙡.𝒄𝓸𝓶

Scarlett kept her eyes on the spot where Mistress had stood. “I thought the two of you had a surprisingly amicable relationship.”

Malachi’s look was hard.

Scarlett turned towards her. “You are interested in her proposal, then?”

The half-demon was quiet for a second. “…If she is speaking the truth, yes.”

“I suspect that she is.”

“Then only a fool would dismiss it. The real question is where she’s lying, and how deeply.”

Scarlett smiled thinly. “That, and whether I have any intention of allowing a Vile access to that sort of power within the Material Realm.”

Malachi met her gaze, saying nothing.

They held there for another moment before Scarlett let her smile fade. “Leaving that aside, shall we return to our earlier discussion? There are still some terms I would like to propose.”