This was all a bother; restricting Harm’s luggage to two bags was limiting. At least Steven tailored them to meet the exact specifications, allowing them to pass through teleportation checkpoints without any trouble.
“I don't want to see her leave at all,” Ambrosia complained to Spot, who was perched on the edge of the bed. The wren was always close by, her first. Picked more for his song than practicality.
The beast tamer may not have chosen any social skills, but Ambrosia could pick up a hint. The timing of Maekus Von Trell’s charter-required offer of an educational scholarship was more than a small clue while Hazeldown was being burned by Naewauld agitators.
Maximum utility. Ambrosia used [Organize] on Harmony's belongings. There wasn't much. Budgetwise, the woman seemed allergic to shopping, appalling in a lady, but a boon for their cash-strapped house. More than half her dresses were gifts from people who visited Ma Bell’s table, who'd been charmed or looking for future favors.
Priority had to be given to outfits that would fold up nicely, so frills were out. Harmony would be most annoyed that none of her journals would be coming. No point in risking someone snooping and reading something disturbing. Like how body preservation affects soul degeneration, an experiment she’d performed on gnomes.
Social underwear or modest underwear? Half the time, her clothes were tight or short enough that she was still using the social ones Tyler had supplied as part of his maid’s uniform. The woman ended up naked too much, so maybe she should pack nothing. News from the scry had a new size-changing ability, which would throw havoc on all these clothing options anyway.
[Primal Mastery] took Ambrosia's mind away from Harmony’s unmentionables. The split vision from several of her winged-lovelies came into focus. Getting used to the color changes took a moment amid the mix of multiple inputs, the use of [Organization] on the input she was receiving. They would soon be under assault. You couldn’t hang around with Lady White without some of her flexible skill usages rubbing off on you.
With the riots, the majority of the household was running around managing the properties they’d picked up in Hazeldown. Without a social skill to fight off the fear, she used the practical experience of singing in front of thousands with her sense of duty to ready herself. This would be easier if Bates were here, as he always had a firmer hand for emergencies. Abandoning the packing project, Ambrosia left Harmony’s bedroom. Spot flew to her shoulder.
Wake-up call. She told her first pet.
[Alarm] rang out with birdsong throughout the manor as he sang. They may only have a skeleton crew here now, but it wasn’t like they were unprepared.
Steven delivered “work” uniforms. The armor had been a collaboration between the tailor and Tess, a little bulkier but a lot heavier due to the armor sewn in. They came with engineering work to help with maneuverability and a handful of gadgets built in to create bursts of magic or speed.
“My pets count twenty-two. Bates said there was a driving component to the violence that he is looking into. I expect these to be the experienced type, composed of paid thugs and ruffians.”
Only eight other staff had remained behind. Barry, a retired street tough, Manfred hired was the most experienced in personal combat, grunted.
Grohl tapped quickly as a tick on a wooden table, “Always party crashers,” he muttered.
Harmony's former bodyguards, Nick and Drew, shared a stalwart look.
More recently hired staff, if Larry, Moe, and Curly looked more nervous while trying to keep their awkward movements in check.
Dustine, one of the gifted staff from The Harvest of Talents, dropped a large, wide bag and pulled out a gilded long-handled axe. Her voice sparked with weak authority. “Nothing we can't deal with. My family lent me some enchanted weapons for this contract. I never thought I'd need them, let alone so soon. Each can cut through four skills before needing to be recharged.”
The invaders arrived. The door held the thugs at bay, and the new hire's buffoonery delayed them further. Not without injuries on both sides.
“They set the manor on fire,” Barry reported.
Oh, Ambrosia had harassed snoops, reporters, and fans plenty of times. This was the first outside of a dungeon where she'd given her pets permission to kill.
Do it. Ambrosia ordered her pets.
In the chaos of the fire, they led a counterpush. “The birds!” An attacker cried, only to be silenced by a flapping of wings.
In the heated battle, an ever-loyal pet intercepted a knife thrown at the Songstress's throat with the only thing it could, its body.
[Primal Retribution]Triggered as the beast tamer felt a primal bond crack. Her cry pierced the screams of battle. Red flooded her vision, and all her skills burned, but it was the tears she remembered.
Ambrosia knelt in the cooling ashes, the corpse of Spot lay still in her hands, and the song of her first pet was now reduced to only old memories.
“The best goes on, Songstress, it does,” Grohl told her, nursing a bloody wound on his side.
Daylight flooded in through the ruined wall; no one made it out unscathed. The work uniforms and enchanted weapons had saved them. All except for one. Death benefits would need to be paid to Larry’s family. If Harm knew any of this, it doesn’t matter that she’d never met the new hire; she’d do something terribly stupid.
“And I have bags to pack. When Harmony is returned from the games, I will be there ready and waiting to greet her with a smile.”
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