>>30385317Shige was growing more interested. “Sounds frightful, my lady. What did they look like? Any morphological mutations? Were they able to speak?” This barrage of questions was perhaps a bit excessive, but this was the most recent and local witness they’d come across yet, Cassandra was also intensely curious. Shige’s fingers were interlocked over the table, as he waited for Sephira’s account.
Hand on her chin, the mayor’s wife thought for a few seconds, assembling her recollection of the day. “Let’s see, I remember they smelled truly awful, not a hint of sweetness on them, and they were all covered in thick coarse hair. I don’t remember them speaking, however. They were quite inert when I saw them na, I’m not sure they could speak nanora... Do they speak, normally?”
The Admiral scratched his chin. “It varies immensely, Sephira. Some are intelligent, scheming creatures, able to plan on the long term, congregate, form strategies. Kronie schizos often turn out like this. Others are mindless beasts, unable to do anything but react to their rawest senses and instincts, completely consumed by their affliction, with only being put to rest as a fate. And there’s everything in between...” The Admiral looked to Cassandra and an instantaneous understanding struck them.
“Say, Mister Appleton, what happened to those captives?”
***
Cassandra felt bad for Noravera. Citrora volunteered to guide the Deadbeats to the prisons, which prompted a look of utter despair from Lady Jaggery, who’d be left alone with the municipal leader and his “sweet fruit”.
But beside the timely release from this torment, Cassandra was genuinely interested in what they’d find in the damp cell. So was the Rear Admiral. She was a bit curious about Citrora, however. The Luknight seemed to have a hardness to her gaze, as if she’d steeled herself for the encounter.
“Fruce, how are you?” Cassandra’s voice was kind, and soft. She didn’t want to hurt the warrior’s pride.
Fruce smiled, the ice melting from her eyes as she focused on the conversation instead of what was swirling in her head. “I’m well, why do you ask?”
“You look very determined to meet those schizo prisoners. We could have found the prison without you, there was no need to trouble yourself.” Citrora looked to the side at that, her hand on the back of her neck. A bit of embarrassment, perhaps?
“Hah, and stay in that dining room for another hour or two, listening to diatribes about South Himedom nobles? No thank you!” Fruce laughed at her jab, a pleasant sound always, but Cassandra let silence fill the space. Magnus was plodding along, a few paces ahead in the hallway. He’d always been a fast walker.
The Luknight broke the quiescence of the sleeping prison, finally. “To be honest... I’m not quite sure my mind is as ready for the North as my arm is. I feel strong, but there is this uncertainty... It’s been so long since I faced schizos, and they’re a peculiar opponent, they do something to you... You would know that, right?”
Cassandra had the full image, now. “Yes, they do. Schizos, they’re not just mad people, they resonate with our world is strange ways...” Citrora raised an eyebrow at that. “Resonate?”
“Yes, resonate. So, you’re afraid you won’t be able to fight them?” The Luknight stopped and rebuked the notion strongly.
“No, that isn’t it, if I’m faced with a schizo, I know my sword will dance her dance, as it’s meant to. But schizos... They’re devious, tricky... Unpredictable.” Memories were flowing through Citrora’s mind’s eye.
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