Maid with Necromancy

The Walker family ranch was a long walk from White Manor, one of the many ranches that dotted the outskirts of Hazeldown, where the undead nature of the dungeon started to wane and interesting, dangerous, and sometimes valuable plants and animals started to appear, attracted or created by the unique nature of the area.

“Relax your wrist, Vivi. Trying to force the notes won't guarantee you'll get a musical class or profession choice when it comes to you.”

*But I want…”

[Musical Rest] Hit the girl, cutting her off with a silence.

“Need I remind you that the Songstress doesn't have a musical class or profession. Dedication and practice are what make a musician, not solely the path they walk. Everyone can learn from that woman.” Stiriling lectured.

This week-long assignment to appease Manfred made sense when the smoke started rising from Hazeldown hours ago. She hadn't tutored any students since long before traveling to this area. Forming the Flows and finding Ambrosia has been a stroke of luck; the original goal of making the dead dance went far down her set list for this world tour in the process.

“Yes, mistress.” Vivi choked out once her voice returned.

[Discordance]  had her spine shiver as the threads that had been laid out around the ranch were triggered.  Manfred had set up other alarms around his place, but none of those warnings went off. You couldn't do what the man did without earning your fair share of enemies. Even if most were too afraid to act.

The only other people at the ranch were Vivi’s parents; normal security had been sent to guard more city central property.  

[Discordance] triggered again. It shouldn't be so sensitive to pick up intrusions that Manfred wouldn't in most cases.

“Go gather your mom and dad and head to the safe room. Something has entered the area. I will check it out.”

[Invisibility] bent light around the musician as she picked up the case holding her fiddle, allowing it to disappear under her spell. She preferred the flashy tricks she contributed to The Flows' shows; this one brought up memories of a misspent youth.

Vivi did as she was told, and the fiddle player left the main house to trace the disruption of her lessons to its source. Through the courtyard, past the main gate.

A short distance from the property, she hit an invisible wall. Well, too soft to be a wall. The dent of an invisible butt sat on the ground, similar to the impression she must be making.  How embarrassing. She stood up, careful with her case.

“Two invisibility users. Let's not make this more complicated than it needs to be.” Stiriling stated, dropping her invisibility.

Whoever the intruder was didn't answer. While [Discordance] would keep track of them, allowing this person to continue on with invisible shenanigans wasn't acceptable. They might try to flee, and Manfred would be disappointed if she had no clue of who tried to break into one of his family's houses.  Stiriling pointed, and [Light Mark] shot out of her finger tip, covering her target with a shimmering splash of green.

A girl. She stumbled a bit at the impact before shedding her version of [Invisibility].

The intruder wore leather armor, plates sewn in for extra protection, and carried two long knives on her back. Dark hair framed a cold, indifferent face.

“Stiriling, undocumented, light-based mage class with a musical profession. Minimal records available. Grohl of the Earth Temple Orphanage called you his forever sister. Tier zero threat.”

This girl was clearly out of tune. “You read that article. Grohl is very sweet.” Stiriling unlocked the latches to her instrument case. “This job has left me with strict orders. I'm going to have to ask you to lay down your weapons and submit to questioning.”

“Losses here will affect the efficiency and potential of House White. Eliminating you weakens potential authority gains. There will be no witnesses.”

The case snapped open as the intruder dashed forward. Stiriling grabbed the instrument in one smooth motion, her hand brushing the golden threads in it. Her loves. The initial vibration of that act was enough to send the broken girl off her attack.

“I'm Stiriling of The Broken Isles. I came here to make the dead dance. No one stated they needed to start out deceased before I tried.”

Not a tier zero threat.

The Hand couldn't get away quickly enough before the bow touched the fiddler’s polyamorously bonded threads, and her fate was sealed by the music.

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