Memoirs of Your Local Small-time Villainess

“Thank you, Miss Knottley,” the junior clerk said, lowering her head as she pressed the folio of documents to her chest.

Livvi smiled. “You’re welcome. Just be careful not to confuse the assignment slips next time. People all over the empire are relying on us to send the right help to the right places.”

“I promise I will!”

“Good.”

Livvi adjusted her glasses and smoothed a crease from her sleeve as she walked past the young woman and left the records room with her own files in hand, hoping inwardly that the clerk would remember the lesson.

Mistakes happened. That was understandable, especially when the Guild was as stretched as it currently was. And this was only a minor issue that had ended well enough this time because Livvi had caught the error while checking the outgoing assignments herself. If she hadn’t, an evacuation request from a border town might have gone out as a routine escort assignment instead. They would have realised the error quickly, but it would have wasted time.

The least she could do was correct the person responsible. She was fairly certain this had been the woman’s first week on the assignment desk, though, so she wasn’t planning on escalating it. Not yet. The Guild had been the one to move her there after the dispatch office ran short of clerks, and in the present circumstances, almost everyone had been doing work they hadn’t been trained for.

Livvi continued down the corridor at an unhurried pace, passing colleagues as she went. The Shields Guild’s Elystead headquarters was as busy as ever, though the strain of the past month had changed its usual rhythm. The disorder that had gripped these halls, and much of the city, only a couple of weeks earlier had settled into something more controlled, but it wasn’t calmer. Until last week, an Undead Council citadel had hung near the city like a blade over its throat, and it still wasn’t known to the general populace why it had disappeared.

Even so, habits persisted. Someone called a greeting to Livvi from an open office, and she returned it. A pair of Shielders descending the stairs shifted aside for her, one offering a respectful nod. She recognised one of the senior archivists from the field reports archive and paused long enough to ask after his wife, whose health had worsened under the recent stress.

It had been easy, lately, to be swallowed by the constant urgency of it all and feel like little more than another wheel keeping the Guild turning. Maybe that was why Livvi had started making a point of these small things. Looking through more of the forms for tiny mistakes. Checking on someone here. Straightening the occasional potted plant there. It felt like it helped, even when she sometimes imagined people giving her odd looks, as if there were nothing but more important things to be doing.

And there were, of course. There always were. They managed reports, requests, schedules, and notices that could mean life or death for both the Shielders and the people those Shielders were trying to protect. They were only one branch, but right now they were carrying a sizeable part of the burden for an organisation stretched thin across the empire, keeping information moving between dozens of branches, mage towers, noble authorities, and imperial forces.

But in the end, the Guild was made of people before it was made of duties, and Livvi’s father had always taught her that people needed looking after as much as any blade or piece of armour. In the middle of all those larger tasks, it was easy to start treating the smaller things as though they no longer mattered, but she didn’t think that was the case.

Hopefully, though, the burden they were carrying would ease considerably in the near future. Everyone was counting on the Empyreal Barrier to steady the ongoing crisis and finally give the empire as a whole some room to breathe.

When Livvi reached the Guildmaster’s office, she took a moment to settle her expression into something more official before knocking.

“Come in.”

Livvi opened the door. “Guildmaster—”

She paused.

On the chair opposite the Guildmaster sat a tall man in luxurious red robes, angled slightly towards the entrance, almost as if he had deliberately arranged himself there for maximum visibility. Sunlight from the wide window behind the Guildmaster caught at the gold in his hair as he smiled broadly at her.

“Ray—”

The name slipped out before she could stop it.

She cleared her throat, voice turning cold as she corrected herself. “Deacon Abrams.”

His smile turned faintly sheepish, though only faintly. “Miss Livvi.”

The Guildmaster looked between them, then gestured at Livvi. “Close the door, Miss Knottley.”

She did, then crossed the room, deliberately avoiding looking at the other man. “Forgive the interruption, Guildmaster. I wasn’t aware you were in a meeting.”

“You’re not interrupting anything important,” the Guildmaster said.

Ray lifted a hand. “I confess I am wounded.”

“We’ve already concluded our main discussions, haven’t we, Deacon?”

“Ah, my mistake. I was unaware my significance here extended only as far as my capacity to exchange sensitive information behind closed doors. Please, go on.”

The Guildmaster’s eyes lingered on him, then he turned to Livvi. “I presume introductions aren’t necessary. You’re familiar with Deacon Abrams, aren’t you? He mentioned you were old acquaintances.”

Livvi glanced at the priest, letting her gaze rest there a little longer than politeness strictly required. He met it with that same smile, milder now, and she found herself half-glaring before she could quite help it.

It had been easier before. Before Arnaud Astrey had casually let it slip in conversation that the affable priest she had called friend, and had always known as ‘Ray Abraham’, was in fact a member of the Followers of Ittar’s Quorum.

Deacon Raimond Abrams.

In retrospect, the pseudonym was almost insultingly lazy.

Livvi hadn’t been made privy to all of the details, but she was aware that the Guildmaster and a few of the Guild’s higher ranks—including Astrey and Gratianus Graham—were cooperating with some faction among the Followers that included Ray. Part of that cooperation concerned the arrangement surrounding Scarlett and the Tribute of Dominion, which was the only reason Livvi knew anything at all. The rest seemed to have something to do with trouble inside the Followers themselves, but she hadn’t been told more than that, nor did she intend to ask.

“We are acquainted, yes,” she finally said, looking away from Ray as a faint look of disappointment crossed his face.

“…I suppose the details are none of my concern.” The Guildmaster leaned back in his chair, fingers loosely interlaced over his stomach. “Disregarding that, did you have something to report, Miss Knottley?”

“I do. I received confirmation a short while ago that Baroness Hartford has arrived in Elystead.”

The Guildmaster’s brows rose, and his eyes moved to Ray. “Does that mean you owe me?”

“Now, now. Let’s not be rash,” Ray said. “I never said the Baroness wouldn’t come.”

“You did.”

“No. I simply predicted that, were she to come, she would surely wait until the final hour to make her entrance — when the reddening sky itself could serve as her herald.”

“You’re still wrong, aren’t you?”

“Undoubtedly. But at least my phrasing was more elegant.”

“Wrong is wrong,” the Guildmaster said.

Ray sighed with solemn resignation. “So it would seem. Very well. What form would you like the payment to take? As a man of the cloth, it would be terribly improper of me to offer monetary compensation, but I could perhaps provide a sincere request for absolution, should you have any sins presently troubling your conscience. Alternatively, I might undertake a devotional fast in your honour, assuming you would permit me to observe it at a time safely removed from luncheon and lasting no longer than one day. If that fails to satisfy, I could compose a written reflection on the spiritual and practical dangers of overconfidence. I happen to possess a regrettable wealth of experience on the subject.”

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The Guildmaster gave him a flat look. “I think I’ll survive the loss.”

“How merciful.”

The Guildmaster returned his attention to Livvi. “Will you be heading out to receive the Baroness immediately?”

Livvi shook her head. “No. Scarlett isn’t fond of being ‘received’ in that sense, and based on what I heard from her sister, she will be occupied for most of the day. I do intend to meet her by tomorrow at the latest, however. I wanted to ask who I should take with me.”

The Guild’s arrangement with Scarlett remained informal in every way that mattered. Beyond the Shielders they had assigned to her, their access to the Tribute of Dominion depended almost entirely on Scarlett’s continued cooperation. It was far from the kind of arrangement the Guild would have preferred under other circumstances, but it at least granted them some measure of oversight where the Tribute was concerned. Enough to observe Slate, study her condition, and begin forming a clearer understanding of her abilities.

Livvi’s own part in the arrangement had never sat neatly. She was there because she knew Scarlett and could speak to her without immediately putting the woman on guard, but she was still a representative of the Guild, expected to keep both its interests and the empire’s in mind. Conducting anything resembling a proper examination of Slate, however, was well beyond her expertise. Her role was simply to speak with the girl and guide her through the questions the Guild had prepared this time. After reviewing the notes from Livvi’s previous meeting, they’d drawn up a new set based on how the girl’s ability seemed to function.

“Graham was supposed to come with you,” the Guildmaster said, a trace of frustration roughening his voice, “but an urgent report came in from Wildscar this morning. He’s unlikely to be back before next week.”

Livvi frowned. “I see.”

The Guild didn’t have too many Shielders who were versed enough in magic to examine the Tribute properly, but there were a few who might manage it, and one of them would need to accompany her when she next met Scarlett.

“So,” the Guildmaster continued, “Deacon Abrams will be joining you in Graham’s place.”

That surprised Livvi enough to make her turn to Ray again.

The man smiled brightly. “It will be a pleasure to finally work with you in an official capacity, Miss Knottley.”

Livvi held his gaze.

For some reason, she had never found him nearly as trying as some others clearly did. Perhaps because, until recently, she had only known him as a charming—if occasionally overfamiliar—priest with a tendency towards embellishment, but also a kind heart and a genuine care for those around him.

Now, she thought she was beginning to understand the irritation.

Still, if the Guildmaster had chosen him, there was little point in objecting.

“I have no complaints,” she said.

“Splendid!” Ray replied.

Livvi turned back to the Guildmaster. “Then I won’t disturb you any longer and will take my leave.”

“Actually, you can take him with you.” The Guildmaster gave Ray a pointed glance. “We can end things there, can’t we?”

“I believe so.” Ray stood, smoothing the front of his robes. “You have my thanks. Ava and I both appreciate your sincerity and assistance in this. Not least the discretion you continue to exercise. I’ll be in touch regarding the specifics.”

“We’re the ones thankful that you trust us to help with this.”

Ray bowed his head, then accompanied Livvi to the door.

They stepped out into the corridor together. The door clicked shut behind them.

Neither spoke at first.

Livvi turned her head.

Ray smiled once more.

“It truly is a pleasure to see you again,” he said. “It has been a while.”

She faced forward and started down the hall. “Has it? I would have imagined time passes quickly when one is occupied misleading people under false names. Did you enjoy it?”

He fell into step beside her with ease. “There was, I admit, a certain thrill to it.”

“Is that so?”

“You should try it sometime.”

“You’re shameless.”

“I prefer ‘unashamed’.”

Livvi glared at him again, but the man simply wiggled his brows, looking far too self-satisfied.

She still couldn’t entirely believe that this man was a deacon. He had to be the youngest anointed one in generations.

She kept her eyes on him, trying to hold the glare, but the corner of her mouth betrayed her. Eventually, she gave a short, quiet laugh that settled into a resigned sigh.

“You couldn’t think of a better pseudonym than Ray Abraham?”

The man had the gall to look thoughtful as he turned his gaze ahead, clasping his hands behind his back like some wandering sage. “Hiding in plain sight is a venerable art.”

“It is barely an art when one simply trims down one’s own name and hopes no one notices.”

“And yet, how many do you think noticed?”

“…I can only imagine the Quorum must have been scraping the bottom of some very holy barrel when they decided to make you a deacon.”

She expected another glib answer from Ray, but to her surprise, he didn’t give one.

They continued along the corridor, passing a pair of Shielders in conversation. Livvi offered them a brief nod. Beside her, Ray’s smile had never vanished, but it had thinned around the edges.

“There is rather less holiness in the barrel than there ought to be,” he said once the Shielders had passed.

Livvi slowed, glancing back at him. He hadn’t looked at her as he spoke, and something in that made the remark land oddly.

“What does that mean?” she asked.

He turned, but the high spirit had already returned to his face. Not completely, but enough that she couldn’t be sure whether she had imagined the lapse.

“It means,” he answered, “that today seems far too pleasant a day to spend sunk in ecclesiastical melancholy.” He lifted one finger between them. “Now. When do you think would be the most suitable time for us to descend upon Baroness Hartford’s estate?”

Livvi was quiet for a moment, feeling unsettled by his earlier comment. But pressing him in the middle of the Guild’s corridor was unlikely to achieve much, and even if it did, she wasn’t sure she would know what to do with the answer.

“I don’t think Scarlett would appreciate our descending upon it at all,” she said after some consideration.

“I’m certain it would be fine if it’s us.”

“Since when do you know her well enough to make that claim?”

Ray placed a hand against his chest again. “Miss Livvi, have you any notion of all the death-defying trials through which the Baroness and I have passed as steadfast companions?”

She eyed him, not entirely certain whether he was exaggerating or not.

“I was not aware your connection ran that deep,” she said.

“Neither was I, initially. Life is so full of surprises, whether guided by fate, chance, or a particularly determined baroness. But I do owe you my thanks for introducing us, of course.”

“That seems a generous interpretation of events. I’m fairly confident Scarlett would have sought you out whether I had been involved or not.”

Scarlett had always been deliberate, but now, there were so many more layers beneath that deliberation. Livvi wasn’t convinced a single step Scarlett took wasn’t part of some path only she could see.

It was terrifying in a way the woman Livvi had known had never been.

Ray gave a light laugh beside her. “I can’t entirely argue with that. Still, I like to think an introduction through a trusted friend from her childhood earned me some measure of goodwill I might not otherwise have enjoyed.”

Livvi was silent for a few seconds.

“Trusted,” she repeated, more to herself than to him.

The word sat strangely, but she let it pass.

“The Followers usually don’t conduct these meetings in person, do they?” she asked, gaze sharpening slightly on Ray. “Is there a reason you came yourself this time? Even allowing for your…flexibility, I would assume a deacon has more pressing duties.”

“Once more, I am wounded, Miss Livvi,” Ray replied. “I am, in fact, exceedingly busy.”

“That is what I said.”

“Mm.”

“So?” she pressed. “Why are you here? Unless it’s something you can’t share.”

He did not answer at once.

They continued walking. They passed two of Livvi’s colleagues, who were muttering something about revised reports and misplaced requisitions, and somewhere farther down the hall, a door shut with a muted thud.

Ray’s pace didn’t change, but something about the air around him did. Livvi had nearly decided her question was simply one he couldn’t answer when she felt the shift. She couldn’t have said exactly what it was. She wasn’t nearly attuned enough to magic for that. But she did at least recognise that Ray was responsible for it.

It felt as though he were drawing a curtain around them, and the ambient noise around them disappeared.

Only after several more steps did he speak.

“The Augur,” he said softly, “has recently produced a revelation.”

Livvi almost stopped walking.

Ray took another step before pausing, turning back to her, and in his hand, she saw a triangular pyramid with glowing inscriptions running along its surface.

“…A revelation,” she echoed. She opened her mouth again to ask what about, but then stopped herself. Her eyes narrowed slightly. “Should you be telling me this?”

Ray regarded her.

“That depends on whether you intend to make my life more complicated by repeating it to someone who would prefer not to hear it from me.”

Livvi gave him a confused look as he simply watched her. Then her eyes widened.

“You want me to tell Sca—”

He pressed a finger to his lips. “What you do with this information is, naturally, up to you, my friend. I’m sure I won’t have any recollection of how you came to learn it.”

Livvi stared at him, disbelieving. “I don’t know what the revelation is. What do you expect me to tell her?”

“Hmm?” He gave her an innocent look. “I don’t expect you to tell her anything. After all, I cannot even recall what we were discussing.”

He turned as if to continue down the corridor, only to pause after a single step. “Ah, but rumour does have it that certain particularly venerable servants of Ittar are presently here in Elystead. I wonder whether that could be of interest to some especially domineering personalities who might feel inclined to meet with them. If so, I’m sure they can figure out a way on their own.”

“Ray—” Livvi began, but before she could finish, the corridor returned to normal, sound rushing back in.

Her heart nearly leapt into her throat when two figures in plain Follower acolyte robes and white masks appeared from nowhere, closing around Ray as if ready to shield him from any danger.

“Ah.” Ray glanced down at the small pyramid in his hand. “My apologies. It seems I may have mishandled this old trinket of mine.” He tucked it back into his robes with an apologetic smile. “A careless lapse. I shall endeavour most earnestly not to repeat it.”

The two masked figures exchanged a look, as if this was far from the first time they had seen him do something of the sort. Then they eased back, hands folding before them in silent attendance.

Livvi’s gaze moved between them and Ray, a faint weight settling in her stomach.

In hindsight, it was strange that a deacon of the Quorum would be moving through the Guild’s headquarters alone, but she hadn’t given it enough thought. Despite now knowing the truth, the familiarity of seeing an old friend had won out over the absurdity of what that friend now was, and she had found herself treating him as ‘Father Ray’ after all.

But no mere wandering priest had escorts like these shadowing his steps. Livvi couldn’t say for certain, but she suspected the two masked figures were members of the Dawnbringers, the most exalted knights sworn to enact the will of Ittar.

And Ray was the sort of man they had been tasked to protect.

Ray caught her look, and this time, instead of merely smiling, his expression softened into something warmer and more sincere.

“Shall we say early noon?” he asked.

Livvi watched him for another moment, then nodded slowly. “I will send a letter to the Hartford residence.”

“Excellent. Then I shall see you again tomorrow.”

He inclined his head to her, then turned and walked away, the two masked attendants falling into step behind him.

Livvi remained where she was, watching until the red of his robes disappeared around the corner.

It felt childish to think it, and perhaps unfair as well, but she couldn’t help wondering how many of the people she still thought of as old friends were truly anything of the sort.