Chapter 27 – A Thorne in Lillia’s Side

Lillia stood on the first-floor landing where Sir Nobody’s corpse had been, a survivor. An irony that was lost on her.

The princess was staring at the door to the Hunting Lodge, which was closed again. Lillia had rested, and she knew that the Hunting Lodge reset each and every day in the dungeon, which only meant one thing.

The chitterpede was back.

It was in there. And if, like Havoc, it was the same one that respawned every time, it was probably pissed. Lillia was too. By her count the score was 1-1. She’d technically killed it twice but the second time had been traumatising

She just didn’t know if she wanted to pick a fight about it.

Whatever the case, she wasn’t about to get caught by the “monster hiding above the door” trick for a third time in the past several days. She’d be careful of that one…and hopefully and other new maneuvers.

Lillia couldn’t avoid the Hunting Lodge. What other option did was there? Lillia just needed to go inside and hope that the Huntsmaster met her in the front room instead of in the back closet. Then the chitterpede could ram into the door as much as it wanted while Lillia had a presumably lovely conversation with the Huntsmaster.

Or maybe the sensible thing to do was open that door and ‘farm’ the chitterpede. If there was a difference between one and two burnmite cloths, maybe Lillia should have been resting over and over again and killing the same bug.

Maybe. Maybe there was a limit to how often she could do that. Either way, Lillia didn’t want to do it because it sounded gross, boring, and it wasn’t getting her any closer to a mysterious second hearth.

Lillia opened the door. It still smelled of stale alcohol within the Hunting Lodge. The rugs were still spread across the floor, and the table Lillia had wrestled the knife on yesterday had been righted, placed back in the middle of the room like nothing had happened.

There was no knife on it. There was no note from the Huntsmaster.

Was Lillia going to have to go back and get the corpse? How was she supposed to move it? Was it a “bring me their heads” thing? How was she supposed to carry the head?

Lillia stepped into the Hunting Lodge, looking up as she made her way in. The ceiling was clear. It was the same gross place it had been each time she’d been here. Unless something had changed in the closet, the Huntsmaster was missing.

The door slammed behind Lillia in a way it hadn’t since she first came here. Before Lillia had a chance to move, she felt a prick in the small of her back.

The door hadn’t slammed. Someone had slammed the door.

“Hey, anyone taught you manners? About knocking?” it was a woman’s voice.

Lillia tried to spin around and see the lady, but the prick, clearly a blade, pressed harder into her back to keep her from moving.

“Ain’t you a jumpy gal,” her captor said. “How about you let me ask some questions before you start movin’ like that again.”

Lillia nodded, then, realizing the woman was behind her, clarified. “Okay.”

She really needed to start checking doors, but that was the sort of work she usually had guards for.

“You part of the party that burned down my hunting grounds?”

“Uh.”

“It’s a simple question.”

“Yes, and no?”

“That was not a simple answer.” The blade pressed against Lillia’s back. The princess tried to scooch away, only to be trapped as the woman wrapped an arm around her neck. A royal blue sleeve ended in a bright yellow hand.

“Well, see, yes, I think I burned it down, but also I’m not part of a party,” Lillia said. “A party is a group of adventurers, right?”

“You’re saying you’re out there alone, girl?”

“Yeah.”

The lady who’d captured Lillia snorted, and she relaxed her grip around Lillia’s throat. At least until Lillia tried to wriggle her way free.

“I didn’t say you could leave.”

“Of course you didn’t. How silly of me.”

“So you’re really out there alone?”

“Yeah.” Lillia left the ‘now’ part of that truth out of it. Havoc’s situation seemed like a lot of information to try to explain while she was the primary victim of a chokehold. At least the woman’s hand was nice and warm.

“And the Ambusher?”

“I killed it. It’s upstairs if you want to see it.”

“You?” The grip relented again, this time fully releasing Lillia. Though the princess still didn’t try to get away. “You took down the Ambusher?”

“One of the dungeon monsters helped me.”

“You and an early floor monster killed the Ambusher.”

“Yeah.”

“Well damn, little girl, you don’t look it but we might make a hunter out of you yet.” The hand that had been wrapped around Lillia instead grabbed her shoulder and spun the princess around.

What she saw was a…bee person? That was the best way to explain it. Her skin was yellow, her cheeks were fuzzy, and there might have been wings back there if Lillia could get a look. The bee-person was dressed in an extravagant royal blue blouse with leather shoulder pads and accents, a musketeer hat of the same shade of blue, and tight-laced leather chaps. Of course—Rickshaw’s wife!

“Hello, Honeybee!” Lillia said. If this were Rickshaw’s wife, then she would know where Rickshaw was. Rickshaw knew where the fountain was, so he probably knew where another hearth was. It was all coming together.

“Honey? Getting a little familiar there,” the Huntsmaster said. The woman had four arms. She crossed the upper two.

“Sorry, I thought that was your name.”

“Why would that be my name?”

Lillia stared for a little too long as she choked down the obvious answer of, “Because you’re a bee?” She settled on something more diplomatic. “I just thought you were Rickshaw’s wife.”

“The skeleton? Haven’t seen him in a season or four.” The Huntsmaster brushed off Lillia’s shoulder and then took a step away. The woman didn’t bother trying to hide the fact that she was looking Lillia over. “Gown of chitterpede chitin. I like it. Creative.”

This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

“Thanks,” Lillia chirped. She swished the dress to show off how loud it was in response to the compliment.

“Yeah, most people don’t give the chitin the time of day because they’re a low-level encounter. But once layered and refined, the scales of the chitterpede are a very formidable material.” The woman stepped around Lillia and ran her lower left hand along the waist of Lillia’s dress. “Not so sure about the choice to use it for something this frilly. Probably shouldn’t be wearing chitin unless you’re looking for a fight.”

Once the woman was past Lillia, she pulled out one of the chairs around the table the knife had been in. She sat down and threw her feet up onto the table. Her boots were a deep chocolate leather with thick corded laces. “And forgive me if I’m wrong, but based on appearances, you don’t strike me as the kind to look for a fight.”

“You’d be right,” Lillia said. Then, recalling the woman’s comment about manners, she added. “I am Princess Lillia of House Ashvalin.”

“Well, damn, look at all those fancy titles.” The Huntsmaster chuckled as she said it. Lillia hadn’t realized how much she missed the sound of a woman’s laughter. Even if it was coming out of a person who was at least half-bug.

Lillia was getting too used to weird things down here.

“Huntsmaster to all, Huntsmistress to those who care about gender. The name is Thorne.” The way Thorne introduced herself, Lillia expected her to offer at least one of her hands. All four stayed folded. Upper two across her chest, the lower pair on her lap. “And you and I need to talk about the prize you brought me.”

“What about the prize?”

“Well, Lillia. Gotta say it’s been a while since someone took out an Ambusher. Been a while since anyone did anything down here, really.” She uncrossed and then crossed her legs on the table. Lillia saw the glint of a knife tucked into Thorne’s boot. “And I suppose I wasn’t ready with a specific reward for someone doing something so reckless.”

“Reckless? It came after me!”

“Yeah, and if you don’t get it on the first shot, you let it run away, then you hunt it again. Even then, with the scales, most people don’t think an Ambusher is worth it. Size of the fight ain’t worth the size of the trophy.”

“Well, it’s what I have so—mark me complete or give me something. I guess. Do you have a mirror?”

“A mirror? That’s all you want?”

“No, just one I can borrow…for when I try things on.” Lillia blushed. “ wasn’t going to ask.” That was a lie. “But you’re just dressed really well, so I thought that you might have one.” That wasn’t a lie. “And I wanted to see how my new dress looked.” That felt silly.

“A new dress?” Thorne asked. Lillia could tell that the woman was trying to recall something, even though her eyes were perfectly shining black. “I don’t believe the Ambusher can drop a dress.”

“No, I make it out of its feathers. Or my class does. If that makes sense.”

“You have a class that makes clothing out of monster parts,” Thorne said. The woman stood up as she said it, a grin spreading across her face. “Now this I’ve gotta see.”