Chapter 72: Ch. 70 – If You Do Not Comply, You Will Die

“Welcome to our little slice of heaven,” Corv said sarcastically as Momo plopped down beside him. She took a deep breath of relief when her feet immediately made contact with the floor. He was right – the drop wasn’t steep. Unlike the Rats’ Sewers, this tunnel was narrow and short. She could barely stand upright without impaling herself on the cobbled ceiling.

“You… live here?” Momo mumbled, trying to not sound rude. He had seemed unimpressed by the rotting barn, but a cramped underground tunnel seemed to be the worse alternative. At least the barn had fresh air – this tunnel just smelled of wet.

“Didn’t your parents teach you manners?” Corv said, several strides ahead.

“Sorry,” she mumbled. “It’s just…”

Momo’s heart jumped as something rattled loudly next to her. It was a rush of sound, like a tidal wave of water shooting through a narrow space.

“God, what was that?”

“Oh, right. That tends to frighten guests,” he said with a shrug, and tapped something to the right of him. It gave a hollow thump as he rapped his knuckle against it. “Nothing to yelp about. It’s just the pipes.”

Looking to her right, she saw them. Long, endless pipes gripped the walls. They weren’t the metal kind that Momo was used to – instead, they seemed to be constructed of wood and clay. That explains the molding wood smell. Water sloshed aggressively against their interior, producing a rattling sound that made Momo worry deeply about their craftsmanship.

“These don’t sound very… sturdy,” she mumbled. Water sloshed under Momo’s boots, dampening each step. A slight dribble of water leaked out of the pipes. “Don’t you worry about… I don’t know, drowning?”

“Birds can swim just fine,” Corv bristled, and kept walking.

Judging by the foul, nearly depressed attitude he’d adopted after getting licked by a single dog, Momo doubted that sentence. Plus, even without the wings, any non-amphibious person would drown in this enclosed space.

Thankfully, it wasn’t long until they reached the intended destination. A smidgeon of light leaked out into the space, revealing a wooden door. Corv knocked against it three times, squawked melodically, and then hopped, happy like a child, as it yawned open.

“Corv? Is that you?”

“Sure as hell is! Let me in!”

Salvo’s face peaked out of the doorframe. She smiled brightly at her compatriot, and pulled him into a furious embrace. The hug didn’t last long, however; she produced a disgusted groan, flailing her talons wildly as if she had just dipped her hand in radioactive waste.

“Ew! Did you get in the habit of rolling around in pigsties while you were gone?” she complained, beak turned upwards in what Momo imagined was the bird version of a scowl. “You look, feel, and smell like an unbathed pig.”

“Don’t even get me started,” he muttered, pushing her aside as he stalked into the room. Momo eyed him with jealousy, unsure if she was welcome or not. Warmth and light radiated from behind the doorway, making her realize just how frigidly cold she’d been before.

Her hands were as rough and dry as wood chips, and every muscle in her body ached to just sit by something cozy and warm – a fireplace, a stove. She’d let a penguin sit on her like an egg, or she’d curl up in a grizzly bear’s stomach if she had to. She just wanted to feel something outside of borderline frostbite again.

“Are you just gonna stare at us from the doorway, or are you gonna come in?” Salvo said, beckoning her with a quick hand. “You’re letting all the hot air out, come on.”

Momo smiled gratefully and ran inside, not leaving a moment to spare. The door shut behind her with a click, and she stopped the urge to fall to her knees and spread out like a starfish. She regretted every word she’d said before – this place was heavenly. Inside the room, it was quiet, undisturbed by the worryingly rustling of water pipes. It was warm. It even smelled like milk and cinnamon.

“I want to live here,” she groaned.

“Well, that’s a bit forward,” Salvo laughed as she lowered a tray of uncooked pastries into an oven. Fire roared from it as she lowered them in, and steam gushed out as she closed it, blowing back her feathers.

“I didn’t mean to say that outloud,” Momo mumbled. But I meant it.

The place was a perfect picture of bird domesticity. It was one large room, with makeshift wooden walls that separated several bed cots. It had a furnace, a stove, a dining table, and several cushioned chairs. It was like peering into a medieval IKEA catalogue.

Despite the lack of direct sunlight, it was also brimming with plants. Small circular panes, which looked a bit like those Sunlamps people on Earth sold for seasonal depression, beamed light onto the potted greenery.

“What are those?” Momo pointed at the panes curiously, Intelligence points getting the best of her again.

“Sunlight Stores,” Salvo said with a grin, happy to be asked. “They can capture, hold, and project sunlight. They keep my plant babies alive just beautifully – all I have to do is leave them out in the sun every couple months to recharge.”

“Amazing,” Momo said, blinking in awe. And it was. The whole room was a feat of engineering. Textiles with patterns and materials Momo had never seen layered the floor and the ceiling, all seeming to perform a different function.

“Having a [Materialmancer] around occasionally comes in handy,” Corv joked as he emerged from the bathroom. Despite his ever-somber personality, he looked almost chipper. Towels hung over his wings, seemingly in-recovery from the saliva incident.

“Occasionally,” Salvo rolled her eyes. “You two would be living in the streets without me. Especially you, Corv. At least Geff had the decency to punch a hole in the wall big enough for us to live in.”

“He… what?” Momo murmured, looking around. Now that she mentioned it, the room was a bit… oddly shaped. It was as if someone had dug a hole in the sand and poked a few openings for rooms. It reminded Momo of the hollow sandcastles that toddlers would build at the beach, except with a working central heating system.

Geff grunted in the corner. He was sitting on one of the cushioned chairs, picking at a small, painted box. His face was wound tightly in concentration.

“So, Momo here apparently wasn’t satisfied with escaping prison, and is insisting upon invading the Western Watchtower,” Corv said as he leaned on the countertop next to Salvo. Salvo’s cheeks went red, and she whipped her face towards Momo.

“You what? Aren’t you in enough trouble already?”

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“Never enough, it seems,” Momo grimaced. “My friend wants me to deliver a letter to Komodo.”

“So you’ve said,” Corv nodded. “What’s so important about this letter?”

Momo paused. She actually had zero clue. All she knew is that Valerica had impressed how important it was to deliver. The people-pleaser she was, she went right along with it, asking very few questions before loading all her belongings into a wagon and heading off.

“I have no idea,” Momo mumbled.

“So you’re going to waltz into Komodo’s tower with no idea what you’re delivering? That’s a terrible plan,” Salvo commented. “You should really read the letter first.”

Momo opened her mouth to protest, but found that only stupidity was about to come out of her mouth. She really should read the letter. If Komodo was just some woman as Momo originally thought her to be, she’d respect Valerica’s right to privacy. But if she was going to risk her hide for this delivery, she might as well be prepared for how Komodo would react.

Not that she really had any alternatives. Komodo controlled her way out of this city, and Sera wasn’t exactly going to help her teleport back to the Dawn in one piece. Momo sighed.

“Fine,” she said, and unbuttoned her pocket. The envelope was still in there, crumpled, mildly damp, but resilient as ever. “Do you have a letter opener?”

—

“It’s a rock," Corv remarked. "You're about to risk your life for a rock."

“It’s not a rock, idiot. It’s a crystalline quartz," Salvo glared.

“Looks like a rock to me.”

Salvo turned to Corv and hit him on the shoulder. He whined, hitting her back.

“What was that for?” he grumbled.

“For mistaking citrine for a rock,” she said, crossing her arms. “That isn’t just wrong, it’s obviously wrong. I can’t just associate myself with dumb birds. It’s embarrassing.”

Letting their babbling fade into the background, Momo took the rock – sorry, crystalline quartz – into her hands. It was jagged, but not sharp, and colored white at the base, and orange at the peaks. It looked almost as if someone had spilled tomato juice on it, or, for a more morbid example, blood.

Momo had found it in the envelope alongside two small sheets of parchment. She had placed the rock on the table, which immediately caused the heated discussion that was turning into a near-fistfight. Continuing to ignore the birds, she gripped the first sheet of paper.

Dearest Komodo,

I regret that our last meeting took such a disagreeable turn. I have meditated on what transpired for many years, weighing what to do about it. How should a woman react when wronged? It’s a question that I’ve had difficulty answering. Kill you outright? Make an example of you in front of the King? Brainwash you into wearing a jester’s costume and have you perform little dances for my houseguests for all of eternity?

So many possibilities. No clear answers.

Ultimately, I came back to the reason I wanted to meet with you in the first place. I admire your conniving wit. Like me, you are an entrepreneur. A business woman competing in a harsh, competitive world. I understand why you took my goods. It was silly, stupid, and ultimately regrettable, but I understand it. From a business point of view.

So that is why I reach out to you with a new proposition.

Morgana tells me that two former subjects of Sera have risen to power in Nam’Dal. Sera is a coworker of mine, a fellow child of Morgie. But she’s a bit… how should I put this…

Is ‘mean’ the right word here?

What I am trying to say is that she will have you killed imminently.

While I am a ‘let the employees do the work’ kind of gal, she has a bit more of a hands-on approach to running things. She will not take kindly to profit-sharing imports and exports with you. I am confident she will solve the issue murderously.

I don’t know when she will arrive in Nam’Dal, but my senses – and my benevolent Goddess – tell me it will be soon. That is why I am tasking my most treasured assistant, my dear Momo, with delivering you this treaty. My proposal is simple:

One, you will lend Momo the magic artillery that will be required to subdue Sera.

Two, you will return my supplies, or a banknote equivalent of what you’ve stolen from me.

Three, you will become a Partner to the Dawn, and join me in a 50-50 split over Nam’Dal’s profits once Momo is in control of the city. (You will notice that this is a very equitable split, when compared to Sera’s offer, which will be 100-0.)

If you do not comply, you will die.

Cheers!

Val

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