Far Off Unhappy Things
Chapter Three: Clementine
By Renko Doremi Rodenburg
Out on the heath, far, far out from the dark and haunted forest near Hyacinth’s little home and the myriad towns dotted around it, the farthest it was possible to stray from the center of the world and its princes and cities, there on the edge of the Lands Lost where they faded into the Sea of Stars stood a small red box on a wooden pole.
Reinhild watched as Hyacinth opened it and took out some letters, placing one back in return.
“To here is as far as I’ll walk with you,” she told Reinhild.
“Because you had to go here anyway,” Reinhild said.
“But, I’ll sit with you and look at the sea,” Hyacinth said.
They walked on as Hyacinth used a tiny knife she had procured from one of the many folds of her black dress to very carefully cut open one of the letters.
“I’ve sat here looking at the little mailbox for a month at one time,” she said. “Nobody came to collect or deliver mail in all that time. Yet letters appear, and letters are answered.”
“I see,” Reinhild said as they approached the sea.
The sea. The infinite watery void. A plane of water so undisturbed it might as well have been quicksilver or perhaps a sheet of black obsidian. Under the gray, eternally overcast sky it laid like a grim, dark mirror.
In the distance, the stars.
An uncountable myriad of tiny twinkling lights, so far down below in the depths of the sea that they might as well be unreachable.
“The stars,” Reinhild said as she and Hyacinth picked a large, rocky outcrop to sit down on and stare at the spectacle. “How deep do you think a body of water has to be, before there’s stars in it?”
“Correlation does not imply causation,” Hyacinth chided her.
“If you take a boat, do you eventually get somewhere?” Reinhild asked.
“No,” Hyacinth said. “You do not. This is where it all ends.”
“What are stars?” Reinhild asked.
“Places. Visible, unreachable. There, but not there. Tiny windows.”
“Like that other world? Where the fox is from?”
“No.”
It could be so hard to talk with Hyacinth.
Together, they sat there. Eventually, it started to get dark. The overcast sky never quite showed the sun, but the clouds changed their colour from a dreary gray to a spectacle of yellow, red and orange as the sun set. It was beautiful, but Reinhild had seen it before. She’d seen what came after before too- and she knew the sunset paled in comparison.
As night fell the millions of stars in the dark sea became more and more pronounced until it looked like a veritable field of glowing gemstones. The stars formed swirls and patterns, dense groups where they almost shone like a unified, luminous whole and scarser, scattered bits where they twinkled blue and white and green.
Hours went by in total silence save for the quiet breathing of the two women.
“I’ll be back within two months,” Reinhild said after sitting there, silently, with Hyacinth for half a night.
“You don’t have to.”
“If you’re challenged again, I want to be your champion.”
“And I don’t want to have to bury you,” Hyacinth chastised her.
Pangs of pain shot through Reinhild’s heart.
“I’m devoted to you. I want to do this. If it cannot be me, my heart will break.”
Hyacinth shook her head, and gave no answer.
“Hyacinth-” Reinhild began, but was interrupted by her friend.
“Then be back within two months. Where will you walk? Do not risk your life for frivolous reasons if you mean to risk it for my sake. I’ll take it as a personal insult if you throw yourself away before that time.”
Reinhild was quiet for a bit, then spoke. “I want to travel northwards, to the mountainous lands. The furthest out where human life still thrives- and far from the influences of the Princes. I’ll follow the shore of the sea until I get there, that ought to be safe enough.”
“Very well then.”
That was all. Reinhild took Helmatot out of its scabbard, and gripped it tightly before closing her eyes and drifting off to sleep, Hyacinth beside.
When she woke up as the first sunlight graced her face, Hyacinth was gone. Of course.
Here she was, at the end of the world. Alone. An infinity of gray dotted with tiny points of light, muted against the daylight to her right, hills and beyond them endless heath to her left.
She started walking. One foot in front of the other, a monotonous exercise that would occupy the entirety of her near future. Eventually she would need to eat. Eventually she would need to drink. Problems to be, for another Reinhild to solve.
At night she sat legs crossed at the shore, staring in awe at the spectacle in the sea.
The next day- the same.
That night she found a tree, burnt and splintered. She sat against it, which improved her sleep remarkably.
The day after, she found herself thirsting, and walked land inwards to the west to find water-retaining plants and perhaps edible roots. She recalled the taste of the young knight’s blood and flesh, and violently shook her head. That wasn’t a path to go down- salivating over human meat.
Locating some plants with high water content in their stems and roots did not take long. She had an eye for it- she’d been wandering the Lands Lost on her own for years now. One discovery of note was a bush of Wellwort- a thorny plant that attracted water to itself. Removed skillfully and properly from the ground, a small pool of dirty water formed.
Gratefully, Reinhild drank the water and threw the inedible plant aside. She almost said a prayer of thanks to Autumn but caught herself and attempted to shake off the chains of that habit once more.
Far off, in the distance, a tower loomed.
This was unusual.
“Only one way,” Reinhild muttered and set out towards the tower.
Distance could be deceptive in the Lands Lost, more so as one approached the edge of the world, and so it was nightfall when Reinhild finally reached the tower- and what a grand tower it was. Intimidating and imperial it loomed over her. A massive construction of gray, almost silver bricks overlaid with shale, with ample but small windows, and a massive crown-like structure imposed on top. A mud path led to the tower- or from the tower- but whereto Reinhild could not tell. It was lightly tread, but it was tread. Two massive, wooden doors adorned with copper door knockers were the only visible entrance. The door knockers resembled angels, stained a beautiful greenish blue from weathering and oxidation. Each of the angels held what seemed to be a font, arms fitted in joints so that they could be lifted, and the font brought down again against the main body of the angel to produce a resounding rattling or knocking sound.
“Hm,” she said, feeling a sense of dread from the icons on the door, but then wanderlust and curiosity overcame her common sense, and she knocked on the door.
Nobody opened the door.
Perhaps the owner of the tower was out shopping. Or, more likely, long since dead. Taking her chances, she pushed against the door- nothing. She pulled, and it opened with little resistance. It was neither locked nor barred, and the hinges were in good condition.
Inside, the tower was paved with rough cobblestones. There were a few closets and drawers, as well as a coat rack. With a coat notwithstanding. On the far end of the room a large spiral staircase began, circling the entire outer wall of the tower. A large torch smoldered on a wall sconce next to it.
Just as Reinhild realized the tower was absolutely not some abandoned ruin, a hoarse voice greeted her.
“Hello dear,” an old man in tweed said as he came walking down the stairs. “You are right on time, I was expecting you. I do have to say I expected someone who smelled a bit better. You’d do well to wash yourself every once in a while, you’re letting your good looks go to waste right now.”
“What?” Reinhild asked, confused. Her hand moved to her sword.
“A joke to lighten the mood. My name is Edgar. And your name, fair quest-knight, might be?”
“I’ll be leaving, I’m sorry for bothering you,” Reinhild said.
“Why?” Edgar asked. “I do not get many visitors, and I’ve got good food and drink. I know you’ve got nowhere else to be or go right now.” He chuckled to himself. “I mean, I know the neighborhood. Trust me. There’s nothing else for miles.”
“Hm,” Reinhild grunted. “What kind of food?”
“Come along and make your pick, I have devices that keep things from spoiling for a long time. I have various wines as well as filtered water.”
“This is strange, old man. What do you want from me?” Reinhild asked, agitated.
“I am bored and you are interesting. You are hungry, and so I am- in a sense. It is not a coincidence you are here, things are hardly ever a coincidence after all.” Edgar chuckled to himself after saying it.
“Alright,” Reinhild said. “I’ll play along.”
Edgar clapped his hands together. “Marvelous. Come, I’ll show you my house.”
He turned around and walked back up the stairs whence he came, and gestured Reinhild to follow. As she walked after him, she pulled Helmatot halfway out of its scabbard, but then decided to sheathe it again.
As she followed Edgar upstairs, she found herself in a large kitchen. A tremendous amount of cupboards, cutlery, pans and pots as well as a massive cauldron covered the entire room. Of note was a metal closet that seemed to emit a soft, low-pitched hum.
“The kitchen,” Edgar said as he motioned Reinhild to follow him further along the spiral staircase.
“The dining room,” he said as he gestured all around him. This room had two large tables lavishly decorated with gold filigree and rows of equally gaudy chairs. Fine carpet lined the floor, and one wall featured a massive painting of a woman hanging above a fireplace.
Reinhild almost choked as she saw it. Her hair was bright orange, an unnatural hue even for the Lands Lost. Eyes like jet and ears so pointed, so sharp they might as well have been knives. She stood with her naked back towards the viewer, looking over her shoulder as if to see who was gazing at her exposed back. Grotesque scars ran just below and between the shoulder blades.
“She’s beautiful, isn’t she,” Edgar said.
“Who is she?”
“My wife,” Edgar replied. “Clementine.”
He suddenly turned and looked Reinhild over. She almost danced back to avoid his gaze, startled.
“You’ve seen her before?”
“I have not,” she replied.
“Hm,” he said. “Tell me all about her later.”
“I’ve met someone like her. Similar to her-” She stopped for a second. “Wait, what?”
Edgar laughed and motioned to the chairs and tables. “Pick a seat. I’ll go fetch you something to eat, something to drink. Any particular requests?”
“Alcohol,” Reinhild said while grabbing a chair. She sat down facing the painting.
She muttered things to herself about Hyacinth, half formed thoughts she had trouble vocalizing. Eventually Edgar returned, with a whole tray of strange things. He put it on the table before Reinhild, and took a seat across from her.
“I’ve got wine for you,” he said as he took two rather fragile looking glasses and poured a dark red liquid into them. It was the kind of unaffordable wine the slavers in Luson would have. For a second the colour and texture reminded her of blood, and an electric jolt went down her spine as she started salivating. Once again she shook the bizarre thoughts out of her head.
Edgar stared at her. “Are you okay?”
Reinhild nodded yes.
He took a small metal box, opened it and placed it in front of her. Inside were berries of some kind.
“You’ll like these, they’re sweet. Let me give you pieces of sweet bread as well. I won’t be cooking dinner until after the other guests arrive, but this should staunch your hunger for now.”
They were red, and appeared to have seeds on the outside instead of the inside. As she cautiously put one into her mouth Edgar placed a plate with little almost golden in hue pastries or pieces of luxurious bread perhaps in front of her.
“Other guests?” Reinhild said while still chewing on the sweet, red blob of fruit.
“Yes, quite. They’ll come by, looking for someone. But they won’t find her here. What happens then is up to you.” Edgar chuckled after saying it.
“Her,” Reinhild said while gesturing towards the painting. “Your wife.”
Edgar sighed. “Yes. Looking for her.”
“Tell me about her.”
“She was my wife and I was her noble knight. I miss her dearly. That’s my best painting of her, but not the only one. If you’re interested, I can show you the others. She’s all I paint these days. Of course she is. There’s hardly any other sight still worth painting.”
“Her knight,” Reinhild said. “You fought for her? Against her sisters?”
“No, though I do know of the fights you speak of. Hah, that’s quite elucidating.”
Reinhild looked at the old man, confusion in her eyes. She had taken a bite of the sweetbread now, but the taste revolted her so she had spat it back onto the plate. Edgar didn’t seem to mind, or even notice.
“Oh, when you saw the painting I first reckoned you had met Clementine. There was a, how does one say it. A recognition in your eyes. But now I understand better- you know one of her sisters, do you not? It makes sense, it makes sense.”
“I do,” Reinhild said. “But I’m unsure if I ought to be telling you all this. You’re a very strange old man, you know.”
Edgar sighed again. His sighs were deep and weary, heavy with age and memories.
“Tell me about her. You must love her very much.”
“I did, at one point,” Reinhild said.
“What happened?” Edgar asked.
“I grew out of it.”
“Tragic, tragic.”
“Hrmpf,” Reinhild said as she stuffed her mouth full of the red fruits. They were remarkably sweet and plump, but as she wiped her mouth and saw the red on her hand a pang of a very different hunger shot through her stomach again.
“Are you okay?” Edgar asked.
“I’m fucking not,” Reinhild snapped at him. “Lay off the creepy wizard spiel. Stop looking at my eyes or whatever to figure out what’s going on in my head.”
“I’m not a wizard. I’m a painter and a poet. It’s my job to pay attention to detail.”
Reindhild took a swig from the wine. it was good wine, better than she had drank in ages.
“Old man, this place is creeping me out. You have all these riches here, and you talk like a soothsayer. It’s about time you come clean why I’m here.”
“You’re here because you saw a tower and decided to investigate,” Edgar said matter-of-factly.
“So that stuff about me being right on time, the ominous suggesting there would be more guests looking for something here, that’s just to fuck with my head?” Reinhild said, losing her temper.
“You’re a natural,” Edgar said, laughing.
“Fuck you old man, I’m leaving.”
“No, no, you’re not,” he laughed. He seemed to be enjoying himself, bright with laughter, a laughter somewhere between heartfelt amusement and sadism.
Downstairs, at the entrance, someone or something caused a massive ruckus. The breaking of wood, angry yelling, and the clatter of metal on stone.
“What the fuck,” Reinhild said.
Edgar put his hands in the air in an ‘innocence’ gesture. “Here for Clementine. They won’t find her, so they’ll probably take me instead.”
“Eternal Autumn,” Reinhild swore. “You really are a soothsayer.”
The noise moved a floor up, now ransacking the kitchen.
“Tragic,” Edgar said. “But the ‘riches’ I possess- in my country they are mere trifles. I’ll get new ones.”
Three people came running up the spiral staircase. Two men, one woman- all wearing leather and furs. The first of them, a rough-built but somewhat short man, had a greatsword in hand. The second, a woman two heads taller than him had a shortsword in her right hand and a torch in the other. The last was a man was a giant built like a bear carrying a massive backpack with a blunt piece of wood as a weapon.
“Hello,” Edgar said as he stood up and raised his hands in a non-threatening manner. “To what do I owe the pleasure of you three destroying my kitchen?”
“Shut up,” the short man snapped. “Tell us where the witch is.”
“I wish I knew,” Edgar said. “She just left one day, years ago. I miss her dearly. If you happen to find her, please tell her I still love her.”
Reinhild stared at the group, utterly lost.
“You, woman,” the short man said. “Stand up and toss your weapon to the ground.”
“I will not,” Reinhild said. “But I have no attachments to this old man here. I won’t intervene in whatever is going on between you.”
“Get up and drop your weapon,” the man repeated.
Reinhild got up and drew Helmatot.
“Pass aside, I’m leaving,” she said. “You can have this fool, I have other places to be.”
She tried to walk through the group, but the first of them immediately swung his greatsword at her.
“Autumn,” she cursed as she jumped backwards. The sword impacted on the ground with a loud clang. “Why are you being so unreasonable,” she yelled. “I have nothing to do with all this, just let me go!”
“For all we know,” the woman in the group said, “You’re also aligned with the witch who lives here.” She pointed her shortsword at the painting to lend her words some force.
“What did she even do to you?” Reinhild asked.
“There’s good money being paid for pointy ears in Lusan right now,” the short man said.
Anger welled up in Reinhild, and her vision slightly blurred.
“Probably good money for a red-haired barbarian girl as well,” the woman said.
“What?” Reinhild said. Pain shot through her heart, and her red-hot anger gave way for an endless sea of black.
“They’re doing it on purpose,” Edgar said as he leaned over the table towards Reinhild. “They’re trying to rile you up. They came here for a fight, so a fight they’ll get no matter what.”
“I don’t want to go back,” Reinhild whispered, more to herself than to anyone else.
Edgar laughed. “Autumn, what dramatics! The mysterious visitor is revealed an escaped slave! The ruffians are pressing all the wrong buttons, setting up their own inevitable demise! The crowd will go wild,” he stopped to look around, before disappointedly adding “If there was one, that is.”
The group of attackers had had enough, and the short man dashed forward with his sword at the ready, while the woman cautiously circled around, trying to catch Reinhild in a blindspot.
But she wouldn’t have it. Everyone here seemed to expect her to do her part in this bizarre play of sorts, but she wouldn’t have it. She bolted for the staircase.
Mr. Greatsword and Ms. Shortsword seemed to have expected her to go after either of them, and were woefully unprepared for her making a run for it. The last of the group just kind of smiled at Reinhild as she ran past him, down the stairs and past the thoroughly ransacked kitchen further down. They’d trashed the bottom floor as well, but Reinhild could care less. She ran straight out of the left-open door and for the hills.
Once she felt she had put enough distance between her and the madhouse, she turned around. Nobody was in pursuit.
She sat down, and waited. Eventually, hours later- the large, bearlike man came out. He was still carrying that preposterously large backpack, and was dragging Edgar- or what used to be Edgar, it was hard to tell from this distance- in one hand, and a shovel in the other.
When it was apparent the others weren’t going to come outside, and the large man tossed his backpack to the side and started digging- grave digging- Reinhild got up from the hill she was on and walked back down to the tower.
Next to the tower she approached the giant man, entranced in his grim labor, and snuck up to him as quietly as she could manage while drawing Helmatot. When she was right behind him, she rammed the shortsword through the man’s trachea, and a vague bubbling and gurgling was the only sound he made as he stumbled backwards and fell against the tower.
Fear and disbelief in his eyes he stared at her as she picked up the backpack, almost but not quite too heavy for her to lug around. She had to look away from the blood flowing from the man’s throat, lest the undesirable urges arise again, but managed to control herself.
New supplies acquired, she set out back into the night, further Northwards.
Really getting into the world setting now.
Feeling identified with the characters, also enjoy the magic that I feel in the words.
Looking forward for the next chapters!
From the chapter name alone, I’d wondered if this chapter would follow the perspective of a different character, but nope – back to Hyacinth and Reinhild! I imagine somebody (or something) named Clementine will be introduced somewhere here, but like I mentioned before, it’s nice that things haven’t jumped between several unrelated perspectives when introducing everyone.
One thing I notice is that the description of the area around the mailbox seems a little sparse. The prose gives you an idea of where it is, and links it back to Hyacinth and Reinhild, which is nice – it gives some context to everything! – but the description of the surrounding area feels absent in comparison. The way the location is described as fading into the sea is really cool, so I suppose this is just me wishing it was expanded on a little more.
(Future Me addendum: there’s some more description of the area later – “rocky outcrops” and so on, but it does feel a little late comparatively. This is most likely just me projecting, since in my own writing I tend to prefer fleshing out the general “shape” of a setting earlier on, I think. So take this with a grain of salt!)
The way the stars are written about is lovely – describing them as tiny and twinkling, unreachable, etc gives the entire setting a great sense of scale and spectacle in general. I do really love Hyacinth and Reinhild’s dialogue here too; the – slightly silly! – wonderings are kinda cute in their own way, and reminiscent of the comments on foxes from the first chapter. Again: very yuri. From everything I’ve read so far, I imagine that one of the two is probably going to die at some point; my bet is Reinhild just eating Hyacinth, but I suppose somebody’s champion (or someone else in general) could just stab either of them. Or burn them with some sort of magical fire! The possibilities for fucked up character deaths are truly endless.
And I adore the fact that the world just kinda ends here, and that there’s nothing beyond the sea. The way it’s described is exceptional – that you just don’t really get anywhere – and leaves the exact mechanics of it all up to interpretation in a way that I think is really cool. I’m nearly certain that there will be some concept of a plane “beyond” the sea, or some sort of void or abyss that surrounds it, but I have a feeling it’ll be a while until that subject is broached. It does make me (more) curious about the entire context of the Lands Lost though – is it some sort of alternate plane that a select group have traveled to, with a normal planet/solar system/etc elsewhere? Or is it simply just a bounded pocket of creation? I’m curious how the whole eternal autumn deal plays into this too, since it seems very fundamental to the Lands Lost and its seemingly “blighted” nature.
I really like the little vignette of Hyacinth and Reinhild sitting together as night falls. The description of the sunset, how beautiful it is – how Reinhild has seen it before! – followed by the immediate one-upmanship by stating that it “pales in comparison” to what comes afterwards is really interesting too; like the sunset is something sentimental to Reinhild, but also equally trivial. The dialogue in this section also gives me the impression that the aforementioned sunset has sentimental value to Reinhild because it’s spent with Hyacinth (Hyacinth, beautiful Hyacinth) and not because the sunset itself means something. I love the further description the sea gets here too; describing it as a field of gemstones and likening it to nebulae, almost. It’s a gorgeous mental image! And while it probably goes without saying, this section is extremely yuri and I love it dearly. It’s nice to see the relationship between the two covered a little bit here, and their dialogue does especially well to (further) paint Reinhild as a being of intensity; the way she feels devoted to Hyacinth, heartbroken by even the thought of someone else being Hyacinth’s champion. “Reinhild is a BPD icon” etc etc. The general solemnity of Hyacinth’s dialogue is lovely too; her comments about the mailbox seem almost whimsical in comparison. Though I think the most interesting part of this entire segment is the mention of princes, plural. I have to wonder if – like Lusan – Losan also has a prince, or whether this is in reference to a group of princes more generally. From what I saw in chapter 2, it was made plainly clear that Prince Autumn possessed some sort of supernatural power, so I’m curious if “the influence of the princes” is a reference to such a power, or something else entirely. Two months is also a long time for Reinhild to be gone, and at this point I simply expect her to just die alone out there and for Hyacinth to stumble across her body and weep. But again, the potential for fucked up character deaths is endless, so I’ll just have to wait and see I suppose.
At this point I’m also fairly convinced that Reinhild and Hyacinth’s friendship is the same kind of “close friendship” observed in historical accounts – the “buried together” kind. I don’t know why Hyacinth has abandoned Reinhild, but the “of course” makes it seem like this isn’t the first time. Again, I have to wonder what kind of things Hyacinth has done to Reinhild! Surely this dynamic of theirs is not healthy. This is Far Off Unhappy Things, so I guess I shouldn’t expect any less, but still!
And although I haven’t mentioned it until now, I really love that Reinhild sleeps with a sword in her arms – and I love that it’s named Helmatot too! It’s a cool name; I tried googling it and (unfortunately) didn’t find much, so it seems like it’s a unique name? A couple Tumblr results came up, though, and they were pretty funny – just quotes from the novel tagged under “problematic fiction”.
I’m curious what the influences of that name are, or whether it just sort of happened; the “helm” makes me think it’d be head-related in some way, but I’ve no clue, really.
Another subtle point of Reinhild’s characterization that I appreciate here is the way she describes her needs for food & drink as problems for “another Reinhild.” It gives me the impression that she generally takes things as they come, and I half-wonder if this sort of mindset is hinting back at trauma from Hyacinth’s past actions; the ones that seemingly made her cry at the end of chapter 1. She seems more lucid now, too – trying not to salivate over human meat – so I’m also pretty curious what the runes that Hyacinth inscribed actually did. I get the impression that they were some sort of way to maintain Reinhild’s vitality, but I’m not entirely certain. The mention of her heart stopping makes things muddy, but maybe the runes worked as a sort of… jumpstart to her metabolism? I’m not sure!
One thing that’s really, really interesting is the almost-prayer to Autumn. I’m curious where that habit comes from – is she some sort of golem/soldier/etc who escaped the service of Prince Autumn? Is that why she wanted to avoid the influence of the princes while traveling? If so, is her “escape” how she met Hyacinth? I’m interested in seeing whether it gets talked about eventually – I want to know!
And then there’s Edgar, and the tower. My immediate thought when he was introduced was that “this is too good to be true.” His comment to Reinhild about being hungry frightens me. His gaudy decorations and fine carpet seem incredibly out of place – what’s a rich old man doing in a tower in the middle of nowhere? There’s just so much to unpack here – was he reading Reinhild’s mind when he said “tell me about her later,” or just taking an educated guess based on her reaction? None of this lines up! Something bad is going to happen! I can feel it!
Reinhild and Edgar’s conversation here raises so many questions too. Hyacinth has sisters, and they’re engaged in battle of some sort – why? Is this where the stakes from earlier come in? Is Fleur another one of those sisters as well? What are they fighting for? And why on earth does Clementine have a scar on her back? I’d guess it’s related to the paint blood, but I can’t tell for the life of me. It makes me wonder if these sisters are a sort of paper shell, filled with paint, and animated magically – perhaps the scars are from the “inflation” of such a shell? I don’t know! Edgar mentions the recognition in Reinhild’s eyes here, so maybe he’s not a mind reader, but… I’m still really not convinced. He is far, far too strange to be normal and charitable. The fact he knows that he’s going to have “guests” looking for Clementine also makes me wonder. Maybe his ability is seeing the future, rather than reading the minds of others? I’m not sure how else he’d know that people would be coming around looking for Clementine. And all of that is before getting into the line where Edgar says that Clementine was his wife. What happened to her? Surely others wouldn’t be looking for her if she was dead? Has she traveled somewhere, potentially to participate in the (seemingly entirely normal) sisterly brawls that he mentioned? Again, nothing lines up!
There are a couple things towards the end of this exchange that I appreciate. One is Reinhild’s clearly overwhelming hunger for flesh and blood (Go, Reinhild, go! Maul someone for me!) and the other is how clearly sick of Edgar’s bullshit she is. Her sudden shift here is great, and is another point of characterization I really like; flowing from skepticism and confusion to sudden anger. It fits her really well.
The end of the chapter comes pretty quickly from here. The people who come knocking on – well, through – Edgar’s door seem like mercenaries of some sort, but the way they act makes me think they’re not nobles of any sort; just common sellswords. Why are they looking for what are seemingly paint-blooded elves? What’s Lusan got to do with that? My guess would be that Prince Autumn just… hates elves? Have they refused to ally themselves with Lusan, or does the prince view them as some sort of aberration? Is this all part of some bigger thing? I wish I knew!
It’s a shame that Reinhild doesn’t eat the bigger guy after stabbing him with Helmatot – I was looking forward to that! – but oh well. Since the other two members of the group don’t come outside, I have to wonder what happened – it doesn’t make much sense for them to be searching for anything Clementine-related, since they ransacked things so eagerly on their way in. I have to assume that Edgar somehow killed two of them before the bigger guy got to him, but I’m not sure how he would’ve gone about that, or why it would’ve taken the bigger guy hours to come out of the tower. Edgar did all-but-admit to being a soothsayer, so maybe his abilities extend into the offensively capable? I really don’t know – and I am so, so suspicious about that backpack too! There’s absolutely no way anything good comes out of that backpack. Nothing good ever comes out of comically large storage mediums. Especially heavy ones.
My overall opinion of this chapter is that “it’s good.” It’s left me with so many questions and a general itch to know more that it’s hard to think about too critically. There are so many things in motion and I want to know about all of them!
I love the way you read the story and how perceptive you are. This kind of ‘perception’ will serve you well to untangle the plot threads hidden in plain sight.
As for Reinhild and Hyacinth, making scenes with them ‘yuri’ is more or less my #1 goal the scenes, with ‘making it incredibly BPD’ a close second. Love that you’re putting so much time and attention in reading FOUT so far, makes me eager to continue writing.