An Ambassador From Hernsford

[Avin]

Death has such a seductive taste to it.

Oh yes, in its raw form, when I smell and sense death it is as a dark fog that lingers around creatures and plants, but it is also like burnt meat. Crisp and resting on a fire for too long it sears onto my taste buds on my long, avian tongue and fills me with a pleasant joy. I have come to love the taste and smell of death, it is my achilles heel. For some time now, for the two months that I have been living my second existence, I have developed this lust for it.

I entirely admit this. But if it can help me bear through the pain of my life, then woe betide anyone who stands between me and death.

Currently I stood in a field. Fourteen dead rats surrounded me, attacking after I had disturbed their nest. Looking down I surveyed my handiwork and nodded to myself. The pungent smell of death was still fresh, and the blood on my katana and tanto still dripping. I had sweat on my brow, which I found odd, for never had I realised it before that I could do so. I dragged one long intake of breath before slumping down and resting amongst my downed foe.

Now I could rest back beneath the blue sky, surrounded by the tall golden stalks of a pleasant crop. Part of me was tempted to begin the steady disintegration of the field, but it would cause me copious amounts of pain, and besides that - that side of me I was not proud of. Even if I could rid myself of the agony every time I used my death touch it was not a good thing. The death scent was seductive and made me happy, to ability cause visible rot was not. Who knew what might happen - if I could pass it from one person to another at all? Death was cruel, I knew this for the numerous times my new body had struggled through it already. It was painful. I delivered it quick and instantaneous to beings that did not matter.

Mere animals. Not beings.

“Excuse me?”

I looked over to where the noise came from. Squinting my eyes in the hot and bright sunlight I stared until I found the creature who addressed me. A being, short and a little on the chubby side. If it had not been for his beard I would have conditioned him as a child.

“Ah,” I noted. “A halfling.”

I had never seen one before, at least in my clear memory. Only heard of them from Vindrexis Quansaldo, one of my masters and creators.

The small man was dressed in a long, dark blue robe and had a collar of white. He leant on a staff topped with a small star motif. Of my growing knowledge of religions I reckoned he followed one of the Raiaeran star gods.

Which made sense, as I was in Raiaera.

“Erm, yes,” the halfling nodded, curling a lip. “Yes I am. And you are … Not alive. And also on church land.”

I blinked and tilted my head at him. He could tell I was not alive. Now that interested me.

Then he gestured around me, at the rest corpses. “You are covered in blood, and there are many rats dead around you. My assumption is that you killed them.”

Completely willing to admit it, I nodded.

The priest, for he clearly was one, smiled then. “Then I must thank you, undead bird. You have rid us of a rather rotten pest. Now, come and bathe at my house. It is the least we could do for the man who saved or crops.”

Looking down at my feathers I saw that indeed, the white of them was stained crimson. For a moment I paused, then I shrugged and agreed. A bath would be good. It would help pass the time until I needed to wait for the trigger of my task that I was sent here for.

Therefore I got up and followed the halfling to his home.

And I had a pleasant bath.

[Stare]

Stare was stressed. Very stressed.

Right now she was riding as hard as she could, having already been to fourteen estates and that had an interest and money invested into some form of Vitruvion's businesses. All of them were suffering under the weight of the killing of fowl, and two were now relating loss of other livestock. She had already given advice on one business that thrived on its production of eggs and chicken meat, stressing as they suffered panic. She had needed to spend an entire hour going over their books, and assuring them that because of this they would not suffer complete monetary loss. The owner of the business, a Miss Hellin, was an elf who had cried on Stare's shoulder then listened with intent as the kenku had found some form of budgeting that would allow them to buy up other stock temporarily and sell it on with profit.

Now she was heading to the Offices - Vitruvion's mostly self-sufficient rented buildings that needed no to little management, aside from accounting. They had requested her come to gain news on what was going on.

She arrived in a flurry of dust, bounding right off Sen's back in a single leap. “Stay there,” she growled at the chocobo who tilted his head and watched his mistress disappear into the large tenement building.

“Right, what is the matter?” she asked, digging her claws into her palm to stop herself from shaking.

Because of the fact she had not been able to stop even to eat since five in that morning. It was now three in the afternoon. She had not seen Vitruvion all day, or even been aware of his presence in her mind but her focus was not on him and his bad mood. It was here. Now.

A short, delicate elf blinked at her from behind a large reception desk which was covered in papers. As Stare strode in she stood up and let out a sigh of relief.

“Miss Stare! It is utter chaos. The businesses are all at loggerheads as to who has priority over the supplies that are left.”

“‘Supplies that are left’?” Stare quoted in confusion, ending her journey at the desk.

The small elf nodded. “Yes, Miss. There has been a lack of supplies to feed the workers here, nothing has come for the last four days. That being my responsibility, I … well. I sent a runner boy to the market but that was in uproar also.”

Stare paused for a moment. “So they have eaten through the stock room and have nothing for lunch?”

“Or dinner, Miss. I am sorry to trouble you with such trivial matters but the arguments have accelerated into accusations and-”

What she wouldn't give for food just now. Nodding, Stare gestured to her.

“Show me where they are and I will help sort it out.”

She was shown a main hall, where four men were currently screaming at one another. Two were elves, one was a human and the other was an orc. There seemed to be some form of xenophobia going on for many racial slurs were being bandied around. Sighing deeply Stare marched past the shaking receptionist, and straight into the middle of the men.

“Right!” she yelled, grabbing the arm of one and pulling him back. “Stop this - NOW!”

A stunned silence. Many eyes turned to the kenku, and some lips moved but no words came out. They recognised who she was instantly, and awe fell across faces of those who had only heard of but never seen the only kenku in Beinost. The woman who, it was rumoured, had kept the city running in the light of all this chaos.

“Right,” she nodded to each one of them in turn, glaring and threatening to release her stun stare if she needed to. “Good, you are quiet. Now listen. I will hear each of your worries in turn, starting with the one who comes alphabetically first.”

“But-”

“Eh, no!” She put up a hand, cutting off the elf speaker. He frowned but went silent again. To him she nodded firmly. “Right. After that, I will organise for food to be sent here. It will be sparse and basic, but I have already organised a supply line for all the other businesses coming from the north. You can get some of that, and until we can source out the origin of the problem, it is the only thing.”

She looked from one to the other. “Is that acceptable?”

There were mumblings. Stare, starting to see hazy lines sucked in her breath and stood straighter. “Sir Elssmith thanks you for your continued support. Now, who is first?”

And her day continued thus into the night, and on into the next day. Then, the supply train came, with fresh produce and new chickens, which she insisted be kept inside houses and flats.

Inside. Watched at all times.

That week, Stare saved a city from disorder.