Chương 37: XXXVI. Lyrelle Forest
A Farm Girl's Guide to Necromancy (Redux) · Unknown author · 37 chương · ~23 phút đọc · Tạo 29/09/2026
Carriages were not conducive to reading. The wheel bumped over uneven rocks, further aggravated by the unsteady gait of horses. These entombed boxes drawn by whatever inane witchery were slowly becoming my bane – how was I meant to enjoy Julianna's adventures sneaking around with her [Royal Knight] while the [Prince] courted her too? The only other option I had was looking out the window, into the dark oak on either side. That broke as we entered the shoreline, which was the long way around Lyrelle Forest.
The [Zone] marker had changed long ago, but we were still in the relative safety of a gravel road. If we went too far we'd end up in Fleursville, but I would love to see Ma's village again. I could also try to talk to Ophelia. She gave me a new black dress, where the sleeves had been connected with lace. It was incredibly warm and kind of heavy, but I was going out into the wilderness. Ophelia herself had worn black leather, and her form was remarkably lithe.
She was just as athletic as Adrian was, but she wasn't as boney?
"Lady Hart, is there something you enjoy to read?" Ophelia said. Her eyes didn't move off the apple she was peeling, her fingers touching the blade. The skin was translucent and peeling in one straight line. She flicked the peel at me, snapping me to attention.
"Huh? Sorry, I was thinking of something. I just can't read in carriages. Tried once, and puked all over Marcellus," I said, and lowered my head out the window.
"Ah. That I understand. It has taken me many trips to tolerate reading while a carriage rocks," she said. She picked up another apple, and the blade sunk just under the peel. Waxy thin strips spiralled out of the fruit. She hadn't eaten a single one. She subsisted on blood.
"Do you just vomit blood or something?" The knife cut into the apple, and the blade landed atop her finger. She pulled back, before cutting in and flicking the entire peel she was working on – and the apple with it. She picked up another one, and raised it up.
"Lady Hart, you don't have to say the first thing that comes to your mind. And no, I had meant before I was turned. Back when I could still taste fruits. The pears from my town were to die for. Pardon the pun""Oh," I said, and turned back out the window. Well, the first thing that came to my mind was to ask her about the pears? But if not about that, do I ask about the town?
"... Is that where you died?" Ophelia's knife didn't dig into the apple this time. In fact, she responded immediately.
"Yes. It was 50ish years ago. I am… was? Empyrean. Father was raised in Mortia."
"Oh wow, you're old," I said, and immediately covered my mouth. First thing that came to my head.
"I am aware, Lady Hart," Ophelia said. She said nothing else, and began to peel at the apples. Her slicing was so delicate, barely able to be heard under the rattle of the wheels. But neither of us said anything while she worked. This is why everyone liked Jazzy more. She always knew what to say, and even Missy could carry a conversation. No wonder Addy li–"You are trying too hard, Lady Hart," Ophelia said.
"At… Farming?" I said.
"No, I think you're actually fairly behind. But you haven't mentioned it once, so I assume you have it handled, or it's a weird hobby you're indulging in."
"... Thank you? Was that a compliment?" Ophelia finished peeling the fifth apple.
"It was not, Lady Hart. You've managed 270 [Blood Carrots] at common quality. That, from what I understand, is both low volume and low quality? But it's also expected of a peasant, and you know your work is currently subpar. You also know that isn't what I was referring to." I jerked up on my seat, and stared at Ophelia's eyes. She wouldn't raise them to meet me.
"Excuse me?" Her knife slipped into the apple and the juices poured out. It slid in a perfect line to the core, and with an imperceptible flick of her wrist, Ophelia had created a wedge with two straight lines – and exactly a fourth of the apple. She speared the fruit and pointed the tip at me.
"You think social graces are something people are born with? They are not. You have to practise them, and you get better with time."
"I just always say the wrong thing. Missy was better at talkin' to people than I was," I said, and leaned back, staring out the window.
"I just don't know how." Ophelia pushed the knife closer to me. The tip was near my lips, and the apple dripped onto the seat cushion.
"Lady Hart, observe a person's actions and words and then ask a question of your own. Bridge the two so they follow. It is how anyone can talk to anyone."
"Ophelia," I said, scooting backwards into the chair.
"What are you even doing? What's with the knife? Are you threatening me?" Ophelia snickered, and dropped the apple into my open mouth, silencing my protests.
"Good, Lady Hart. Chew slowly. A bit too on the nose. Previously, I had mentioned my love of pears, or my ability to taste. I had figured that you would mention a fruit you enjoyed or cuisine you tasted, but you do choose odd conversation paths." I chewed on the apple, and it was very sweet. Ophelia smiled, and sliced another wedge. She speared it, and hovered it in front of my mouth. I pushed the knife down.
"You didn't answer my question." Ophelia's grip tightened, and her golden eyes locked with mine.
"If you are to meet the courts, I can not have you bumble your way into a war over nothing. I've seen entire underworlds wiped out because two people just misunderstood each other. A lot of your problems are just lack of practise, not misintent." Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings. She broke the stare and dropped the next piece of apple into my mouth, while I was still chewing the first.
"I feel like I would enjoy conversing with you, more than the inane chatter that Mrs. Carnwich provides. I just need you to not ask me silly questions, like how old am I. Is modern youth really that crass?"
"Be quiet, Ophelia," I said, crossing my arms and staring out the window. I still chewed the fruit, but a small smile crawled on my face.
"As you wish, Mistress Hart," she said, and quartered another slice. I took it off the knife this time so she didn't have to feed me.
"Oh, right," I said.
"Why are you waiting?"
"... Because you haven't told anyone to stop, Lady Hart."
"... It's your carriage, Ophelia?" I said.
"Lady Hart, I am escorting you to explore a forest I've already seen. I don't know what you've explored!"
"None of it! I haven't gone into the forest!" I said.
"I thought you knew a safe place?" Ophelia's smile twitched and she knocked on the carriage's wall. The wooden slide opened and she whispered something quietly, and the carriage ran to a halt. She opened the door, and waved outside.
"Mistress Hart, first, I am not mad. I find this amusing, and I will adjust to my new position within your organization. However, if you wish for me to make the entire plan, I have no opposition to doing so. Just… inform me next time, and I will do as you require."
"Ophelia," I said. Her golden eyes stared unblinking at me.
"Yes, Mistress Hart?"
"I ain' your boss," I stepped out of the carriage and landed on my boots.
"Stop doin' that. We're friends and sisters, ya?" Ophelia didn't answer, but closed the door behind me. Ophelia stood in front of me as we watched, her eyes ever forward. She was also attentive; not a single branch or limb caught in my face, and she always caught me as soon as I stumbled. The apples were nice too, though, I guess I should have asked about the pears? An [Acherontia Mortis] fluttered by. It landed on the bark of an oak tree, danced in a circle, and its fuzzy head stared straight at me.
The puffy antennae wiggled. This time I had a jar – I could finish my [Bug Catcher] and be allowed to start a [Bee Hive]! I could make honey… wait, could there be honey from [Blood Flowers]? It would steal from people's dreams. It didn't even threaten to flutter as I approached it. I took out one of the jars and uncorked it gently – but it had no holes on the top. I'd have to keep the moth trapped and puncture holes before I closed the lid. The moth walked into the jar with no provocation or bait!
I upturned it and looked for something sharp… I heard the leaves rustle and the growl-turned-bark before I could even register that it belonged to a wolf. I ducked, closing my eyes. Last time, Adrian protected me. With a wooden sword, and – Whipping wind rushed past me, and the wolf tumbled backwards. Its claws scraped against the ground, and Ophelia stood beside me. The knife was gone, and her fingers became sharp and claw-like. She still carried herself with poise.
The moth rested at the bottom and tapped at the glass, but my hand was shaking. I put the lid atop the jar but it kept rattling off. Ophelia beckoned for it, still facing the wolf. It had slowly gotten up and the canine eyes tracked her. It circled her, before raising its head to the sky to howl. There was more rustling as two more wolves emerged. I handed it to her, and she closed it with one hand. Her sharp nails even punctured the tops, giving oxygen to my moth.
I should have confirmed if I succeeded in my quest, or what the next [Farm Girl] quest was. But I couldn't make myself do it as the wolves tightened their circle. One of the wolves lunged at me. Its mouth was open and a gray spittle flew into the air, tongue lolling out. The heat from its breath singed against my lacy sleeves. Something thicker – or plate – would have been better! The wolf's jaw split open, ripping from the seams. The body cracked in two like a walnut, mixed with gibbards and bones popping away.
Ophelia's claws remained impaled in the wolf's jaw as she finished tearing it apart – from the spine. The bone and the meat was useless, and I imagine I wasn't getting its Anima.
"Ophelia!" I said. The second wolf threw itself at Ophelia. Its' jaws snapped at her ankle, throwing up more twigs and dirt. Its brains exploded out, and the skull crumpled inwards. Ophelia's heels rotated into the gray matter and twisted, until the remainder of the wolf collapsed from its sudden end. That was another body ruined.
"Lady Hawthorne?"
"What?!" Ophelia snapped, as the third wolf looked between us and the mess. It flattened its tail, rotating in the dirt and yipping into the distance. Ophelia spat on the ground, before wiping the blood off her heels.
"... I need the bodies?"
"Sorry?" Ophelia said.
"The bodies. You.. destroyed them. I can't use it if they're like that, the bones are bad, the meat's going to be awful, and I don't think I can catch their [Animum]." Ophelia looked down at the mess. The wolves weren't even twitching, and steam rolled out of their corpses into the cool air.
"... Right. You would want the bodies, as an [Acolyte]." She said, "How do you collect the Animum, Mistress?"
"I need [Drain Life]," I said. I couldn't read the Mortis Agrariae spell page still, but I could recall the sigil motions for [Drain Life]. I probably would have messed it up if I was actually wearing leather or even a plate… but like this, my fingers could still weave. Maybe cloth was the way to go? I just couldn't get bit…
"That means nothing to me," Ophelai said, turning her nose to the air.
"Lady Hart, I am getting hungry. I can smell [Bandits] south of us. I would like to feast, and you can figure out how to [Drain Life] them for their [Soul]."" [Bandits]?" I said.
"The lowest class of civilization. You need not concern yourself with them," Ophelia responded, beginning her walk. I followed behind her, each step measured.
"Aren't they people though?"
"Who gave up their humanity. Even a [Paladin] can slay them. Quite a few have a bounty on their head, if you are seeking an Adventurer's Coin."
"So it's fine to kill them because they're [Bandits]?"
"Are we really discussing the morality of killing [Bandits], Lady Hart? Any adventurer is allowed to kill them - they are literally sleeping on the dead. You can think of it as heroism for all the people they've robbed, or whatever atrocity they have committed. They will do far worse to you, and you're human too." I grabbed Ophelia's shoulder.
"No, I don't care, Ophelia. If you are allowed to kill them and they're people, I need you not to break the body or kill them. I need to extract the soul." Ophelia froze, before she smiled at me. Her face was beautiful, and the golden eyes shimmered.
"As you wish, Mistress Hart."

Giữ khẩu khí thanh khiết — không văn tục, không phá chính trị.
Nhập môn