A Tale of One Deviant (Book 2) (Technically Hiatus, but kind of not)

Chapter 199: Moon Finery Competition

Wish with your magic.

     Those words came back to the forefront of my mind while seeking out someone to slap some holy swords on first, so I didn't forget. It was my plan to give them over anyway, whether or not Mrs. Bhemus coughed up that small, unhelpful fact.

     But the place was emptying out. People were heading to the festival, to the streets, away from their homes to go see the commercial district in its full decorative glory. So it took me some stumbling, some trying to find even a single life in the place with magic, before I eventually stumbled over Major Bhemus under the setting sun standing in the corner of one of the courtyards, staring at the wall.

     "Um...Mr. Bhemus? Are you alright?"

     "Mademoiselle de Libellule," he sniffed, reaching up a hand to rub at a red nose somewhere above his beard. "Not out enjoying the festival yet?"

     "Not quite...I wanted to give you some more holy swords before I go to try and enchant my things last minute. Mrs. Bhemus - your great-great-great-granddaughter, married to Peter Bhemus - wouldn't give up the secret, so I'm going to go figure it out myself. Doesn't feel complete as a product if I walk out of a Dwarf's forge without an enchantment," I shrugged, stepping off the walkway and a bit onto the grass. Something told me that it was not a moment for me to fully approach. "That's all. I'm guessing I should come back another time-"

     "It's fine, lass. There's nothing going on. Just one last prayer before the competition."

     "You really want that Lorettatir...but," I held up my hands, taking a step back. "This is coming from someone not of age to drink, and who has never had such an acclaimed liquid that even fairies want it."

     My "acclaimed liquid" came from people, after all. Specific types.

     "Ah, I do. I want something good to poor on my friend's grave, after all. Nothing but the best will do."

     "..."

     Oh my goodness. Definitely should've just gone to the festival.

     "Don't look like you're seeing too much of the light just yet," the old Dwarf laughed, looking back towards a carving on the inner wall of the clan's ancestral grounds. "And no need to apologize, just in case you were thinking of doing that either. I've heard enough of such things."

     So my lips stayed shut, despite me wanting to apologize for being about to apologize, and my head ducked again. I was just really good at running into those kinds of situations and, being me, messing things up, wasn't I?

     "Smith would've been glad to be at the competition this year, I know it. We have our very own mademoiselle here to give us enough adventure to last months in a day, and enough time to make even our thousand years seem like change."

     "Smith?" My head went up, then narrowed at the carving. "No way...so that's why I haven't seen him around?"

     I met the man once, and we only spent a few weeks together, but they were very close weeks and very comical ones as they got used to me and I got used to them.

     He nodded, eyes still on the carving. Something like I'd find on some of their clothing, with his name there. "Two months ago, when we were making the plans for the competition's entry, eternity took him...he simply didn't wake up in the morning after a night of ale. It was his time, though the ale may have had something to do with it. He was an old smith, and he never could hold his liquor the right way."

     My mouth stayed shut. He didn't want me to say anything, and nothing that would come out would be anything but apologies anyway.

     "This is where he died. Right here, in his favorite drinking spot. Said he could see the moon perfectly from here and his wife didn't bug since it was too far from his place."