Memoirs of Your Local Small-time Villainess-Chapter 317 - The endless grind

Scarlett’s final days on the Rising Isle were anything but restful. The week following the events in the Hall of Echoes passed in a whirlwind — there was simply too much to follow up on with her game knowledge of the Isle’s secrets. While she had no desire to linger longer than necessary, she couldn’t pass up the opportunity to leverage the resources and favours she had accumulated from the Council.

And those favours were plentiful. She’d kept careful count. While there weren’t any more major dungeons on the scale of the Hall of Echoes or the Astral Sanctum, lesser dungeons, hidden chambers, and scattered relics still held their value. For days, she worked alongside the Isle’s wizards to uncover these secrets, ensuring each discovery added to the Council’s growing list of debts owed to her.

The Veiled Library, however, remained off-limits. Scarlett had promised Yamina she would warn her before revealing its hidden sections — likely so the woman had the chance to ‘tidy up’ after their visit there. Still, Scarlett imagined Yamina was also just as eager for another private look through the Library’s forbidden archives without anyone watching over her shoulder.

As for how Scarlett could contact Yamina, that was less clear. The woman had been missing since before they entered the Hall of Echoes, and no one seemed to know where she’d gone. Scarlett wasn’t sure if that was bad news or not, but she trusted she would eventually learn more — especially if Yamina’s activities were connected to Beld Thylelion in some way, as her inquiries in the Library had suggested.

Beyond unearthing Zuverian secrets, Scarlett had also engaged in a few more meetings with the Council to discuss the Hallowed Cabal and the Anomalous One. She hadn’t shared anything particularly world-shattering—at least not from her perspective—but she’d ensured the Isle was brought up to speed with what factions like the Shields Guild and the Followers of Ittar already knew. For all their magical expertise, the Rising Isle could lag behind in understanding events outside their domain, notably those centred within imperial territories.

Of course, her motives weren’t purely altruistic. The recent aggression of the Cabal and Tribe, combined with the Hall of Echoes incident, had understandably left the Isle wary. Encouraging cooperation between them and other major factions suited Scarlett’s broader goals. At least in the sense that they could all act as stabilising factors in the world, and that gave her more freedom to move as she needed to.

She had also hinted to the Council about the impending opening of Beld Thylelion, warning that the Undead Council might already be aware and preparing for it. This wasn’t entirely new information—they had been on their way to piece it together themselves—but by giving them a heads-up, much as she’d done with Elystead Tower and the Followers, she ensured that they leaned slightly in her favour.

Then there was the matter of Grand Wizard Blakeshaw. The Council had requested she corroborate her accusations against him — namely, that he had been collaborating with the Undead Council. Proving it wasn’t that difficult. Though Blakeshaw was currently absent from the Isle, Scarlett knew of his secret laboratory on the Isle, and it contained more than enough incriminating stuff.

Sure, she had received some strange looks and questions regarding how she could possibly have learnt of the laboratory’s existence, which was fair enough. Before her first meeting with the Council, she’d spent a great deal of time trying to figure out how she could present this information convincingly, but in the end, she just abandoned the pretence altogether. By now, she had long since passed the point of offering false justifications. More often than not, the truth wasn’t an option, and her leverage spoke louder than any excuses. Not everyone approved, but enough of the Council seemed content to let it be — so long as she kept providing valuable insights.

That suited her just fine. In truth, she almost preferred this kind of transactional relationship. It was certainly easier than the intricate political dances required when dealing with figures like Arch Wizard Godwin of Elystead Tower. Leaving so many unanswered questions with a group of research-obsessed wizards—wizards powerful enough to topple most nations—might not be ideal in the long run, but long-term consequences weren’t her immediate concern at the moment.

As for Blakeshaw’s fate, the Council had offered only vague assurances that they would handle the matter internally. Scarlett saw no reason to press further.

Looking ahead, she had several promising ventures that would involve collaboration with the Rising Isle. But she would need to be careful. As an imperial noble, she did have to take her status into some regard, given the empire’s somewhat tense relationship with the Isle. Also, no matter how many Zuverian artifacts or secrets she provided, the Isle would never allow her free rein if they believed she posed a genuine threat to them or the world as a whole. Considering some of the stuff she’d done in the past, she suspected she would continue walking that fine line for some time.

At least she had established a fair number of connections here — if you could call them that. Over the past week, she’d had several one-on-one meetings with prominent wizards, some more discreetly than others.

One of the more unexpected encounters had been with Arch Wizard Newbury, who visited her quarters one evening. In an exceedingly blunt manner, he warned her against any actions that might harm the Isle — all the while attempting, with what he likely imagined was great politeness, to extract information from her. Needless to say, he had not left particularly pleased.

Then there was Gaspar, whose interactions with her had been...mildly awkward. He had offered what might generously be called an apology for their past tensions, while also trying to gently probe about her connection to Delmont Hartford and her time in the Memories.

Warder Asheton, meanwhile, seemed to have developed an almost obsessive interest in her. The Council member had on multiple occasions sought her out to bombard her with a near-endless stream of questions, many of which the other council members likely wouldn’t have approved of.

Scarlett had answered only a select few, mainly those concerning her Zuverian knowledge. To Asheton’s credit, the woman didn’t seem annoyed at getting so little. If anything, she only seemed more intrigued. And despite the pestering, her enthusiasm had its uses. Not only had she made several personal offers to compensate Scarlett, but she had also promised to answer questions and assist with warding and array work for Scarlett’s mansion in Freybrook.

It felt like about the only Council member who didn’t try to pry into Scarlett’s affairs was Magister Penney. While he remained more subdued than usual, perhaps slightly uneasy around her after the events in the Hall of Echoes, he was as polite as ever. If anything, he seemed intent on restoring part of their original rapport. They had even shared a somewhat half-pleasant meal one evening with Rosa and the others.

Suffice it to say, though, that Scarlett’s visit to the Rising Isle this time had been tumultuous. She’d long since lost count of the twists and turns along the way, and she had no particular desire to catalogue them. But at last, the time had finally come to return to the empire.

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

She and her party stood in one of the Kilnstone chambers within the Chamber of Conjunctions. The rune-etched floor and walls shimmered with arcane energy, mirroring the dormant glow of the Kilnstone hovering at the chamber’s centre. Before them stood a surprisingly distinguished contingent of the Rising Isle’s wizards — Gaspar, Magister Penney, Warder Asheton, Principal Wizard Bunce and his two apprentices, and even Arch Wizard Elaine Home. A group that consisted of no less than four Council members, which would probably have been enough to make most people sweat under their collective scrutiny.

Warder Asheton stood with her arms crossed, a slight furrow on her brow. “Are you certain you can’t simply ignore whatever noble obligations are dragging you back to the empire? Another week here would hardly hurt, and I have plenty more interesting topics to discuss.” Her tone wasn’t outright rude, but the woman had a way of studying people as though they were puzzles to be dismantled and reassembled to her liking. Despite that, there was a sincere curiosity in her dark eyes, her golden braids shifting slightly as she moved.

“Tempting as that offer might sound,” Scarlett replied, “my responsibilities do not permit such luxuries. The affairs awaiting me in the empire cannot be postponed any longer, and I suspect the Rising Isle will have more than enough to occupy itself with for the foreseeable future.”

There was no shortage of pressing matters waiting for her back home, most of which took precedence over anything she might accomplish on the Isle now. Frankly, it might have been best if she left even sooner.

Gaspar gave a curt nod, his expression neutral, though his eyes betrayed a hint of weariness. He had likely been pushing himself harder than anyone else over the past week, overseeing many of the Isle’s sudden influx of new projects and inquiries that had sprung up in the wake of Scarlett’s actions. “You’re not wrong. The Isle will be busy for months, perhaps years, sorting through everything.” He hesitated, then added, “Your contributions have been…valuable, Baroness.”

“Valuable indeed,” Asheton said. “Though I wouldn’t object if you returned someday with more of those contributions.”

Scarlett smiled faintly. “We shall see.”

The farewells continued with the expected mix of formality and politeness. To Scarlett’s mild surprise, Gaspar stepped forward at one point to exchange a few words with Shin. She observed them from a distance, noting the quiet but earnest conversation. It seemed the two had formed an unexpected affinity during their time in the Hall of Echoes. According to Allyssa, they had even met during the previous week to discuss some obscure book or other. Scarlett had no idea what that was about—there was probably a forty-year gap between them—but she hoped Gaspar wasn’t thinking he’d make Shin his apprentice or something like that.

As for Rosa, ever the irreverent one, the bard eventually clapped her hands together and grinned at the assembly of powerful wizards. “Well, it’s been fun. Your little isle here is something else — hats off for keeping it so picturesque all year round. It’s given me more than enough inspiration for a ballad or two. Oh, and I appreciate you all sparing me the fate of a dissected hare!”

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Gaspar and Magister Penney exchanged dark looks at her remark, while Warder Asheton eyed her with morbid interest. Arch Wizard Home, on the other hand, simply raised a half-amused eyebrow before turning to Scarlett. “I wish you the best of luck in your endeavours, Baroness. I have no doubt we will cross paths again.”

Scarlett regarded the older wizard briefly, then nodded slowly. “Yes, I believe so.”

She wasn’t really sure why Home had chosen to attend this farewell, given they’d only interacted during the council meetings, but she wasn’t about to question an arch wizard’s presence.

As for Rosa’s comment, Scarlett didn’t know what else she expected from the bard.

With all goodbyes exchanged, soon, the Kilnstone flared to life, enveloping Scarlett and her party in its dark embrace before depositing them in front of Freybrook’s Kilnstone. The change in atmosphere was immediate — a brisk, biting breeze swept through the half-open structure housing the artifact, offering a glimpse of the snow-draped streets beyond. It was a stark contrast to the near-paradisiacal warmth and perfection of the Rising Isle’s artificial climate, and Scarlett didn’t waste a single moment in enveloping herself and her companions in a cocoon of heated air with her pyrokinesis.

Rosa shot her an appreciative smile as they stepped out of the structure and into the open square outside. The familiar city and its landscape stretched before them, its snow-frosted rooftops and tranquil streets exuding a sense of calm in the cold. In the distance, Count Knottley’s keep loomed over the city like a silent sentinel.

Scarlett felt an odd sense of relief at being back. It hadn’t been that terribly long, but in some ways, it felt like an eternity had passed.

A carriage awaited nearby, and soon, they were on their way through the city. The steady rhythm of hooves echoed against the cobbled streets as Scarlett glanced around at her companions. Across from her, Allyssa gazed out the window with a soft smile, while Shin was already buried in a book. Beside her, Rosa leaned back against the cushioned headrest, eyes closed as she hummed a tune, likely the first strands of whatever new song she was composing.

Finally, Scarlett’s attention settled on Fynn, seated by the window to Rosa’s left. He stared out at the streets and the people there, his expression giving little indication of his thoughts. His injuries, as severe as they had been, were mostly healed, much to the amazement of the wizards on the Isle. Physically, he was nearly back to his prime.

Still, Scarlett had noticed a slight shift in him. Even for Fynn, he had been unusually quiet since waking up. Allyssa and the others had filled him in on what happened in the Hall during his unconsciousness, and while the sheer scale of events might leave anyone shaken, Fynn had weathered similar experiences without issue before. Scarlett suspected that wasn’t what weighed on him.

It was the appearance of Olgolzkreh.

For the others, the sight of the ancient dragon battling the Anomalous One may have been a moment of awe, but it was only a singular event amidst the chaos. For Fynn, however, it was something much more personal.

After all, Olgolzkreh was the reason he and his siblings were the last of what remained of their people.

Scarlett wasn’t sure what the young man made of hearing they’d encountered a memory of the dragon that took so much from him. He didn’t appear angry. He didn’t seem sad. He just looked…reflective. Similar to how he’d been before their journey to the Howling Gale’s Haunt.

She wondered if his ancestors were speaking to him again, making noise. It was certainly a possibility. He would have to return to the Howling Gale’s Haunt eventually, and the time might be approaching. It was hard to tell.

If Scarlett had anything to say about it, that would be postponed until later.

Should she talk to him? She wasn’t sure what she could even say. Her return to Freybrook meant she had a mountain of high-priority tasks waiting for her. And knowing Fynn, talking might not even accomplish much.

For now, she’d let it rest. He had his own way of working through things.

The carriage eventually rolled up to their destination, the large Hartford estate bathed in the early afternoon sun. Scarlett felt the Loci’s ever-familiar presence stirring in the back of her mind, almost as if welcoming her. She greeted it in return, though she was skeptical whether it truly understood such gestures.

As the carriage passed through the gates and up the snow-covered gravel path, a contingent of neatly uniformed servants awaited them at the entrance, led by Garside.

“Welcome back, My Lady,” the old butler said with a slight bow. “I trust your stay on the Rising Isle was eventful?”

“‘Eventful’ does not begin to describe it,” Scarlett replied as she stepped up to the man, scanning the gathered servants. She nodded to herself. Good. Evelyne was nowhere in sight. She doubted the younger woman was in any state to be waiting around outside in the cold like this, and seeing her here would only have annoyed her.

Scarlett returned her attention to Garside. “What have we missed in our absence?”

“Quite a bit, I am afraid,” the man replied. “The empire has been in something of a frenzy this past week, My Lady. There is much you may wish to hear.”

“I expected no less.”

She hadn’t deluded herself into thinking her workload would somehow shrink while she was away.

“And where is Lady Withersworth?”

“She is in the parlour.”

“The parlour?” She raised a questioning brow.

Garside nodded, his moustache shifting slightly. “Yes, My Lady. Your return is rather fortuitous. Lady Withersworth is presently entertaining a guest — one I believe you and your companions may find of interest.”

Scarlett studied him for a moment. “Who is it?”

The butler’s gaze flicked briefly to Allyssa and Shin before he answered. “A Mister Arnaud Astrey.”