Another Day At Unity (2) (Patreon)

Lyra rolled onto her knees, pressing her head down in the lowest bow she could. "Lord Fae. We're sorry. We have no excuse."

The cold stone under her was the granite of the throne room, one of several areas in the manor built to resist the incredible heat of the victini. From the piles of ash she sometimes saw servants sweeping out, not everyone who entered always left again.

"We're eager to serve," echoed Don, from just beside her. Lyra didn't look up, but she could still feel him touch lightly against her side. He took a similar position, though he didn't have to transform back into a minccino.

Vel did, so fast she barely felt the change. It made her see the world differently—anything dirty, anything disorganized, she would be driven to fix.

Lyra didn't need a daemon to encourage her to be subservient, not when Fae was around. Cooperation transformed to pure terror.

"At least we agree on that much," Fae said. He floated in front of them. His daemon drifted closer to Vel, radiant with heat that made an ordinary pokemon instantly shiver and sweat.

The first instinct was to change again, into something that could resist the heat a little better. But Lyra had served Victini House long enough to know what would happen to her if she did.

"The two of you are very lucky today. Lucky that we have need of servants to offer, and there are not more with the distinction of your years." He gestured, but not to wait for them to stand. Incredible force yanked them to their feet, then dragged them forward.

Fae didn't pull on their daemons, only Lyra and Don directly. Their daemons had to scamper after them, or else get separated from their humans. That would be even more painful than trying to remove the collar.

The throne room wasn't empty, despite the hour. Another girl waited in front of the throne, sitting with legs folded and her daemon meekly in her lap. Hilda had a plain cloth duffel beside her, full of who knew what. Two other bags waited there, with an empty space for each of them.

And the one waiting beside the throne—Lyra might've screamed in terror at the sight, or maybe turned to sprint away. But Fae's telekinesis barely held her loose enough to breathe. She couldn't scream even if she wanted to.

"Lady Moonstone, of the Johto Mews," Fae said, with an imperceptible nod. "These are our other two Oblates. Victini house leases their service to this... scheme. But we expect to have them returned in the same condition we gave them to you."

He released them only when they were in place beside Hilda, next to their bags. "I hope you'll find this an adequate substitute for my attendance at this... ridiculous school."

Lady Moonstone was an old creature—unthinkably older than Lyra, and probably Fae too. Her daemon kept near her, circling through the air with an expression of unbroken amusement.

Don dropped into another bow, joined only a second later by Lyra. But for once, that was the wrong answer. "Please stand up. I would like to look at you."

They were just words, not some supernatural compulsion against her mind. Lyra obeyed as though it was, springing back to her feet and looking up at the lady.

She had never met a mew before, let alone the second most important mythical in the entire world. Wife of the Eldest, wealthiest and most powerful mythical family. There was more to it of course, ancient rivalries and allies and oaths, but she was never asked to learn those things either.

The lady gestured, and Lyra floated up into the air. Not like someone was manhandling her—this was much nicer. The weight holding her down just stopped, and she drifted up. She smiled at the sensation, and didn't notice until she realized the lady was staring. She looked down quickly, squeezing both hands together.

"Look at you. Shiko's daughter. Still scampering through basements and mopping floors? Or did the house decide to educate you?"

She didn't say anything, but that wasn't an option here. The lady commanded, and she floated a little higher, right up to her. "Well?"

"I serve the house," she said, as impassively as she could. "I do the best I can, Lady. Better than some, worse than others."

Fae made an annoyed sound. "My father keeps all his oaths. But we never swore to educate. What the bastard was due, she was given."

The lady's peaceful expression went hard. She waved again, and Lyra slipped painlessly to the ground. Not dropped there, like Fae had done when they teleported. "That kind of thinking is precisely what got us in this position, Fae. If the Great Families tended the bloodlines better, perhaps we wouldn't have the need to introduce strange blood."

She lifted Don into the air next, prodding at him. "Where did this one come from?"

The victini shrugged. His daemon kept floating over to the mew, but the cat pushed it aside before it could get anywhere close. "General... something or other. Led our armies in the Orre Rebellion, last century. His youngest, born during the campaign."

"I see." She set Don back down again. "Very well, Victini House. We will accept this contribution to the Academy of Unity. You should know, however—this does not absolve you of attendance. Every child of every house must go."

"Great lady, I'm not a child. You know as well as any what youth comes from Unity. There is nothing for me to learn by indulging this... bizarre conception. I would never question your husband, but perhaps he should have questioned the stray. She was barely with us a year before delivering this absurd decree."

She shrugged. "You may question her yourself, when you attend. Or perhaps you will devote your effort to a swift graduation. One so Unified and mature as you will have no need of remedial education, surely." She turned away from him, and landed on the ground in front of the three of them. "Oblates of Victini House. I am going to put you to sleep for a brief moment. When you wake, you will be on another continent, far from here. Do not be alarmed—you will be with others of your kind. You may even find the environment instructive."

Her attention seemed to linger on Lyra as she said it, though of course Lyra had no idea what she was talking about—except for the obvious. They were about to leave. They were not given a choice, or even a chance to say goodbye.

But who would she say it to, Fae? The only kids whose names she knew were all coming anyway.

Hilda played the game better than Lyra could. "Our pleasure is to serve," she said.

"You can say that again," Fae muttered, drifting away from them all. "You three better do as you're told. Apparently I'm gonna be there in a few weeks myself. Only Arceus knows why."

But Lyra didn't get to hear the rest of his angry muttering. The mew said nothing, yet overwhelming tiredness washed over her. She wobbled, curled her head up in her arms. She had enough energy left to hold Vel protectively, then all went dark.

Lyra woke somewhere else. The smells came through first—new wood, paint, and cleaners so harsh they burned her nose. Someone grabbed her shoulder, grip firm. "Oblates, wake up. Your teleport was successful, and there is much to do."

She groaned, then rolled to the side. She opened one eye and looked up.

A woman stood over her, looking young and friendly. Yet the daemon beside her made it instantly clear what Lyra was really looking at. She fought her exhaustion, rolling back into a bow. She wasn't fully awake yet, her movements were still sluggish and clumsy.

"Honored lady," she whispered. "Forgive... think I'm still… we dozed off."

The young woman chuckled, taking her by the shoulder. She helped her to her feet, far less forcefully than any of the telekinesis she'd suffered lately. "You were made to sleep for long travel. The feeling will pass, just give it time. Lady Moonstone chose caution over comfort, and chose an incredibly deep sleep. It will pass."

The woman's daemon was almost the same height as Lyra, with a nearly-human body plan. But no human had that perfectly white skin, or cascading green hair with little marks on it. No human sounded so musical, as the daemon did, when she eased Vel gently off the floor and carried him. The daemon was as exhausted as she was, or else he probably would've resisted.

As Lyra woke, she finally got a good look at their surroundings. These were servants' quarters, not unlike those she had spent her whole life inside. Yet instead of a single room full of bunks, there was a hall with identical doors. The stranger led her by the wrist, into the one with her name on the door.

Where mythicals were concerned, it wasn't terribly large—a bed her size, shelves for storage underneath, and a tiny desk by the mirror. All was built of plain wood, painted in white. The only window was a narrow slit near the ceiling—were they underground?

"Your belongings were brought for you," said the young woman, releasing her wrist. "You're welcome to dress how you like when you're down here in the servants' wing. But when you go up, you'll wear one of these."

She opened the narrow wardrobe by the wall, showing Lyra what waited inside. Servant uniforms were never that different—simple cut, short sleeves, and stockings to go with. "Not orange and red," she said. "Gray and gold, that's... your house?"

The woman chuckled. Her laughter had some music to it, just like the daemon. "My daughter is upstairs, as the Eldest commands. But Unity belongs to no house. We wear the Maker's colors in His honor."

She nodded nervously. "It's daytime here. Was night when..." She yawned, or started. Lyra covered it as quickly as she could, eyes down. "Apologies, noble lady. I have—"

"I am Chantelle," she interrupted. "And there's no need to apologize. The Eldest gave me stewardship of the keeping of this place—I intend to run it my way. That does not mean Oblates will be free from duty and have the honor of the Great Families—but there's a reason you've been brought here." She lifted a hanger off the wall, offering it to her. "Dress, gather with the others in the common room."

Her daemon deposited Vel on the bed, nearly as gently as Lyra would've. She didn't walk so much as danced back out the door, spinning past Lyra and Chantelle, humming all the while.

"One more thing," Chantelle added. "Try to stay awake. It's very important you learn everything now, before the noble heirs arrive. There's coffee in the common room, I suggest you and your daemon both take a cup."

She shut the door gently behind her, leaving Lyra with the privacy to change.

It didn't take long—she could squirm out of one uniform and into the next in less than a minute. Dressing faster meant she could sleep a few more minutes each morning, after all.

She lingered by the mirror, adjusting the simple apron over the skirt. With a few seconds of effort, she adjusted her hairbands, settling into a simple style of two ponytails. It was better than nothing.  "Guess we weren't that important to Victini House after all. Gone without saying goodbye."

Her daemon posed on the desk, grooming his fur straight as Lyra dressed. Vel didn't enjoy being a minccino, probably because she didn't. But he had enough years of practice to act the way everyone expected.

"Good," Vel thought. He didn't say it out loud, but he didn't have to. They'd lived long enough that they could speak without words, so long as it was just to each other. No one needed to overhear. "The last few years were awful. If we never have to see Fae again, it will still be too soon."