Wicked Problems

SOLVEIG

The Duke's face was one of held-back anger and Solveig couldn't really understand why. “Let Penelope go. Now. That’s a command.”

“B-But…!”

“Solveig… listen to me very carefully. The only reason why I haven’t retaliated yet is because your information is clearly outdated.”

“How outdhhated could I possibly beh?!”

“The Demon King is dead.”

Yeah, I knew that! I shoved a knife up his arse!

“He has been dead for thousands of years.”

…

Oh.

“Yes, Beastkin can be controlled through ancient subjugation magic, just as the Demon King probably once did. But that is no longer the case in the modern world. But as you can plainly tell, our enemies are taking advantage of this weakness.”

Solveig hummed. “...Huh.”

“Now let her go.”

“...Alrighty.”

Solveig reluctantly lowered her trembling hand.

The blankness instantly snapped out of Penelope's face. The maid blinked, stumbling backward and standing like a terrified deer caught in the blinding glare of its hunter's lamp.

“Are you OK, Penelope?” the Duke asked, his clinical tone shifting to something slightly more accessible.

“I—I think I am?” the maid whispered. “I don’t understand… did something happen?”

The Duke let out a slow, weathered sigh. “So you weren’t even aware of any of that.”

“No, I just stepped into the room, like you asked.”

The maid must have just registered the dirty look Solveig was giving her because her ears suddenly fell flat.

“A-Ah… Master… is Mistress Solveig perhaps from Aaktrio?” the wolf-maid offered. “She does look vaguely like their sea-people. Blonde… pale skin… And I know their people still… uh… keep slaves like m—”

The Duke raised a calm hand. “Penelope, if the girl hailed from an enemy nation, she wouldn’t have been given a plush royal bed to sleep in. Let alone in our own infirmary.” The Duke pointed at Solveig. “And you.”

She pointed at herself. “M-Meh?”

“Should any further harm come to Penelope…” The Duke’s voice dropped approximately about a million registers. “I will deal with it swiftly… and personally.”

Guh…!

I will never get on this guy’s bad side for real!!

The Duke shared a brief, reassuring look with Penelope before turning on his heel and making his way out of the room.

Solveig quickly shook her head, the sudden realization of having to converse with that… thing… hitting her. She shot her arm straight out of the blanket.

“Whhhait…!”

The Duke turned.

“Before you gho… could you please at least know where I’m being held?”

This time, the Duke answered her resolutely. “Illustria Palace.”

"And was there any retaliation?"

...

"What kind of question was that?" the Duke asked.

"It's obvious with slavers. Face is everything. You give an inch, you have to walk a mile."

"No, no. Your logic is sound. But how would someone your age know?"

"Call it... instinct."

"...Alright. And yes. There hasn't been retaliation. Although... I wouldn't it put it past them to have  a straggler. And it only takes one for news to spread. If they find out they have been massacred in such a fashion... well, they don't take humiliations well."

Solveig sighed. This was going to be a problem, wasn't it? Her actions had consequences. And if the straggler went into detail? Her life will be so much harder than it was right now!

As the Duke left, Solveig’s eyes slowly and surely turned toward Penelope.

Her stomach turned.

Ugh… I’m so doomed!

I’m actively consorting with the enemy! Penelope must be so chuffed to hold all the power here! She’s totally going to take it out on me for sure when she finds out what I did to her ancestors! Probably mess up my hair and ruin my nails!

This is a tactical disaster!!!

\\

SOLVEIG

“Tell me, did I make your tail fluffy enough?!”

Penelope jumped a little.

“Y-You… you did…”

“Good! Your fur doesn’t deserve anything less!” Solveig groaned, her face completely mesmerized, mushing itself within its many, fluffy layers. “So soft…”

Wowzers. 

Not only was Penelope a pleasant surprise (and she concluded was decidedly different from the animal-human monstrosities that the Demon King experimented on), this place was an absolute technological marvel! She had just experienced a magical concept called a ‘shower’ for the first time in her life.

So much better than going into a creek to do her business. The amount of times fish slapped her face because she wanted to wash was frankly uncountable. She needed more of this shower thing…!

Solveig let go of the maid's tail and lunged forward, grabbing Penelope by the shoulders.

“But please tell me! I need to know how your water technology works! Where does the magic stream go? How does it come out hot?!”

“It’s basic plumbing, Mistress Solveig. Besides… a maid is not exactly qualified to elaborate on the inner workings of a palace’s utility system on the spot.” She sighed. “Much less a beastkin.”

“Didn’t you tell me just now that you wanted to be a… a enjoneer?” Solveig countered, stepping closer.

“Engineer.” Penelope slumped. “Yeah… well… you don’t get many options in a place like this, being who I am. Real engineering academies require noble recommendations or massive tuitions. What am I going to do, not accept the job I currently have? What other options do I have?”

Solveig stepped forward and firmly grabbed the maid’s shoulder, much to the poor girl's fright.

“Listen to me, Penelope,” she said. “In my former home, the person who knows how to build the traps and fix the huts is the one everyone listens to. Do you think some fancy chieftain’s blood makes a tool twist any better? If those stuffy city chieftains try to look down on you, you just build something so loud and powerful they can't ignore it. You have the spark! Don't let people who have never even touched dirt tell you what you're worth!”

Penelope's ears twitched. "That's... easy for you to say, Mistress. You can make people float. …Allegedly."

"And you could help make water come out of a wall hot. What’s more valuable to the average person?" Solveig asked. "I've killed a Demon King and I certainly can't do that."

The maid stared at her for a while. And soon, Penelope was blinking through tears.

“You… you’re right!” the maid gasped. “After all, why not? Why not? If I fail, so be it. At least I’d have tried before I regretted!”

Satisfied with her motivational prowess, Solveig nodded and strode forward. They both rounded the stone corridor corner, with Solveig hugging the near side of the sharp bend when all of a sudden—

SMACK.

“Waaahg!” “Oof!”

Solveig hit the polished floorboards hard. She immediately began massaging her sore shoulder

“You got a lot of nerve, ya damn—”

“…You’re awake?”

Her breath hitched. Is that…?

She didn’t even need to look up to confirm Cain’s face. In one explosive blur of motion, she scrambled to her feet and threw herself forward, wringing her hands tightly around his neck.

\\

CAIN

“A-A-Ah—khegh!—O-O-Ok—u-uhrk!!”

“Ya damn suicidal piece of crap!” Solveig shrieked, violently shaking him by his neck. “What was I gonna do if you died, huh?! I would be executed… or worse!”

Cain choked, his eyes bulging. “Help… P-Penelope…”

“Perhaps he can respond without two hands enveloping his airways, Mistress,” the maid chimed in nervously from behind them.

Solveig clenched her jaw, her face flushing crimson. “Fine. Fine!”

Cain let out a desperate gasp for air the exact second she let go. 

"Get your damn hands off me!!" he rasped.

Solveig froze.

Cain blinked. Some heat that had flared up out of nowhere behind his eyes guttered out just as fast as it came. He pressed a hand to his own throat and swallowed.

What the hells... is wrong with me?

"...Sorry," he said, and this time it sounded like himself again. "I'm not mad at you. I'm just... jumpy. Yeah."

She was still staring at him. He looked away first.

But before he could even form a coherent follow-up, he felt her arms slide right back around his shoulders.

He let out a weary sigh, his hands hovering awkwardly in the air for a beat before resting gently on her back as she began to sob into his chest in earnest.

It was a long while before she finally let him free of her grasp, sniffling loudly as she stepped back.

“Y-You prick…” she hiccupped.

“Don’t I know it.” He gave her a lookover before opening his eyes a little. “You look…”

“Beat up? W-Well, Penelope did her best… but she can’t exactly fix fractures within my soul.”

“...You aren’t exaggerating.”

“Nope. My magic…”

She twirled her fingers around, and dancing upon them were motes of black and white. Surely the ‘null magic’ she was harping on about.

“You can tell.”

Cain breathed loudly through his nose. “Do we need to call in the principal? Perhaps he can shed some light on your... condition.”

“If he can get a more accurate assessment of my countenance, sure; but I can already tell.” Solveig looked to the ground, hiding a pout. “Far as I can sense… my mana regeneration’s been reduced…” She summoned electricity and let it dance along her fingers for a moment. “...double its amount, really. It’s a mess.”

“I’m sorry.”

Solveig looked offended. “I sure damn well hope you are!”

“Are you still capable of formulaless casting at least?”

“It’s not like I’m done being a hero or anything—obviously—but… it does mean I’ll have to pick and choose my battles a lot more carefully from now on.”

“Sorry… seems inappropriate.” Cain looked down. “This all seems so unfair to you.”

“You’re right. It is unfair.” She seemed to snap out of her funk, flashing him a bright smile as she whipped her arm out to point directly at his chest. “But I didn’t go through all this trouble just to come out friendless on the other end.”

“...You’re being serious.”

“I’m totally serious right now. The only way you can apologize to me is by becoming my friend. So please: say that you’ll take care of me!”

“I…” Cain felt constipated for even saying this. “...Of course. I’ll take care of you.”

“Excellent. O-Oh, and plus, you must henceforth acknowledge me with my proper name from now on!”

“!!”

He doubled back. Swallowing hard, he looked away before his eyes drifted back to meet hers.

“...Fine, Solveig.”

Solveig closed her eyes and nodded twice, smiling. “Good.”

They stared at each other for a moment, until Solveig broke it with a tilt of her head.

“By the way, you could really do with an expression other than looking constantly constipated.” Cain sweat-dropped. This girl was crazy observant. “You got something to say?”

A cold knot tightened in his stomach.

His mind drifted back to what happened in his father’s office, where he found out exactly what lengths people would go to whenever it came to doing whatever it took to save their loved ones.

His mind, in the same thought, drifted back to what happened before the office, where his first of many sudden emotional flare-ups began...