The Trouble With Clerics
Part 2. Felicidad's Story
Barony of Celedyl.
Felicidad de Fedorias studied herself on the shiny surface of the silver dagger she was carrying. With the blade at the proper angle, she tried to adjust her golden blonde hair beneath the elven hunting cap she wore.
“Your disguise is fine,” scolded Melisante Erewan in a hushed whisper.
Felicidad was surprised that Melisante even noticed her primping herself, considering how engrossed the other elven maiden was peering into her palm-sized crystal ball.
Felicidad ignored Melisante’s warning—She did not exactly agree with their pairing for this assignment, but only these two elven maidens could infiltrate this encampment of Erewan elves defending against the humanoid raids from the Principality of New Kolland—and turned sideways to continue her grooming.
She caught a reflection of her eyes, presently colored a bright emerald green to match the hunting outfit she wore, and was privately admiring herself, when Melisante, without lifting her gaze from her divination crystal, flippantly commented, “They make you look pretty like Doña Esmeralda de Belcadiz y Erewan.”
Blood rose to Felicidad’s face, its color seeping through the enchantment designed to make her appear as a fair-skinned Erewan elf. If there was anything that roused anger, hatred, rage, frustration, jealousy, ire, and a host of other passionate emotions in Felicidad, it was any comparison with her prettier cousins from Belcadiz!
Felicidad turned to confront Melisante, and in a voice that was both raised in anger and hushed for confidentiality, began to say, “Are you reading my thoughts? I thought we agreed that we wouldn’t do that! I told Beatriz I never liked working with you! I would rather let the Paparazzi—”
But her tirade was abruptly stopped, when she caught a whiff of a distinct pungent stench that reminded of her of those horrible weeks at the Great Crater, a punishment of Signorina Beatriz Dominatore, where Felicidad had to cover an abominable humanoid fashion show, hosted by the kobold Prince Kol XIV to prove that the orcs, goblins, gnolls, and, of course, kobolds of New Kolland were as cosmopolitan and chic, if not as pretentious, as the rest of the beau monde of Glantri City.
Felicidad turned her head towards the origins of the rank odor, and Melisante, as if she were indeed reading Felicidad’s mind, put to words Felicidad’s thoughts. “Those wounded must have come from the battle front.”
Felicidad would have wanted to reproach Melisante for her spying, but the scene was immediately filled with other elves: scouts, soldiers, reserve fighters, a few wounded who were well enough to walk, and not a few elven healers.
With a slight nod of the head, Melisante signaled Felicidad to follow the elven physics into the gathering crowd welcoming the wounded arrivals. Felicidad got close enough to one of the fighters, an elven woman with cuts and gashes through her leather armor.
“Wyrenne will be fine,” concluded the elven physician, who then disappeared in the thick of the crowd hovering over the other wounded.
Felicidad could not see what was going on, but she overheard the same elven healer say, “I cannot do much with him. Bring him to Lady Tariana.”
That was all Felicidad needed to hear.
Felicidad found her way back to Melisante. Before she could speak, Melisante gently said, “I know. They’re bringing him to the cleric of Terra. The landscape of spell lore will guide me to her.”
As Melisante walked away, still peering into her enchanted crystal, Felicidad worried over a myriad of thoughts. So the Erewan are harboring clerics in their ranks. No wonder they’ve survived this long! And it seems to be common knowledge among the Erewan! Or is it just Melisante and her incidental omniscience?
But what worried Felicidad the most was that Melisante must have read her designs of getting one of those spell-scrying crystals of her own, just as she acquired so many magical trinkets from her time at the Great School of Magic.
