Another Day At Unity (4) (Patreon)

"Pity is always the worst," Eleanor muttered, when the headmistress was gone from the dining hall. "Better when they're angry, or cold. At least then you know how they really feel."

Everyone was gone, in fact—only Lyra and Eleanor were left. The other servants were probably off with their new masters.

Lyra shifted nervously. Her furret changed, settling onto her shoulder as an emolga. The squirrel fit there nicely, and left her with enough energy to fight if she had to.

Or to shock her awake if she started to doze—increasingly likely as the hour grew later. "You can still change..." She trailed off, circling around her. "Right, Oblate. You're not an ordinary servant."

She nodded. "I don't think so. Dunno exactly what it means, or what I am, or... a lot of anything, really. No one answers questions when I ask. Not important enough."

The ditto sighed, deep and reverberating. "I know precisely what you mean. We are each of us captive to our place." She gestured off in a different direction. "Come on then, Lyra. I'm going to show you my lady's quarters. I doubt she will need anything from us tonight—mew sleep a lot."

She followed Eleanor through the underground tunnels, at least for a few minutes. The ditto slid along beside her, somehow keeping pace with them without once falling behind or needing them to slow. She couldn't exactly say how the ditto could move like that without any legs, feet, or other organs.

She wasn't brave enough to get close to the pokémon to watch, that was too dangerous. But Vel could, gliding off her shoulder to scamper along the ground behind the daemon. They could speak, fight, or just walk together, without it ever being that strange.

Daemons often resolved social standing between groups—though where a vastly unequal relationship existed, they would respect boundaries too. They could just push them far more than their people ever did.

"Dammit. Stupid maze, every hallway looks and smells the same. No history, no..." She spun in place, arms folded. "We'll have to go back to the surface and look around. Students should be off on their own by now anyway. If we're lucky."

She moved for the stairwell, but Lyra cleared her throat. "I, um..." She wobbled back and forth, then rushed ahead. Eleanor seemed like a reasonable adult—no reason to keep completely silent. Was she a better master than the ones Lyra had just left?

"I know this place pretty well," she stammered. But when Eleanor didn't interrupt her, she sped up, growing braver with each word. "If you tell me where your lady is staying, I can probably get us there."

The ditto spun on her, folding both arms. She looked Lyra over in silence for a few seconds. "They gave us one of the little towers on the corners. Mew like verticality. Cliffs, trees..." She waved. "Not sure which one. Closest to the entrance."

Closest to the entrance. She considered her mental map of the academy, each of its towers and hallways. Getting there she would need to...

She took Eleanor's wrist again. This time she was expecting the slime, so it didn't bother her as much. There were worse things to be than a little slimy, like so hot you burned everything you touched. Or maybe Fae did that intentionally, just because he could...

She didn't have an exact map of Unity so much as she had a “feel” for where she was going—where the walls ought to be, where there should be a door for her to use. Some of those were hidden, requiring a little finesse to get them open. She worked her fingers into the gaps, wiggled the locks where she had to, and eventually they yielded to her.

"You do know where you're going," Eleanor said. At first she was resistant, but grew more cooperative as the minutes passed. "How'd you learn this so quick?"

"Didn't. It's been..." She counted off on her free hand, but soon gave up "Dunno. A month? Lots of work to get the school ready for you important people to get here. Tried to learn everything I could while I waited."

She stopped in front of another door. These were the ones she used the least—leading up, to where the important people would be. "Here. I think this is your tower." She released the ditto. Despite the strangeness of her, the contact didn't leave slime on her fingers. Or any other sign of contamination for that matter. The ditto wasn't that bad, just a little cooler and more flexible than an average person.

"Well that's very impressive for a kid your... right. You're probably older than me."

She shrugged. The answer was obviously yes, though most older servants didn't like when she pointed it out. Far from giving her the respect she deserved, they would usually make her work harder for a while. Until she learned their routine, and made sure to keep them from running into each other again.

"Doesn't feel like I'm older than anyone." She tugged at the collar on her neck—not hard enough to strain her fingers, just lifting it over her dress for Eleanor to see. "Wearing one of these, I mean. Not allowed to grow up."

Eleanor sighed. "Nothing I can do for you there, Lyra. If I told you how to get that off, I'd start a war with Victini House." She produced a key from her pocket, then unlocked the door. It swung open, into air that was suddenly humid, filled with the choking pressure of life and moisture and a gentle coolness on her skin.

It was one of the most wonderful things she'd ever felt. "Is that a waterfall I hear? Inside?"

Eleanor grinned. "Yes, well. The mew are creatures of exotic tastes. Little troubled by such petty concerns as the laws of physics. It must be genetic, because she sure didn't join my house acting like that."

She took the first steps inside, then hesitated when Lyra didn't follow. "We can't exactly serve her from out there, kid."

Lyra stumbled after her. She held out her arm for Vel, who flew up to perch on her shoulder. Where anything frightening or new could happen, Lyra always felt better with her daemon close.

Most adults were too slow to catch her—but their daemons had other powers, and could sometimes use them on Vel. The closer he was to her, the less willing they would be to close the distance. Those tricks didn't work with mythicals, but old habits were hard to break.

"So who do I work for, anyway? You, or the..." mew. She had only seen two of them during the ceremony. One boy, nestled in the center of the large group. Then the girl, defying all others to sit alone.

They climbed a single staircase, and already the world beyond was transformed. Not another identical room, but a jungle, with creeping vines and flowers and ferns growing in every opening. There were no obvious ways to the top, just an open shaft where the moonlight could cascade down through the tower.

Eleanor seemed to expect that reaction, because she waited beside Lyra in silence, watching her face. "Julian's place is nothing like this," she eventually said. "Even though he's a boy, and Hayden doesn't get to be. But he didn't learn from the honored ancestors of Shaymin House."

Now she was losing her. Maybe this was why Fae and the other members of the great house never said anything to Lyra—she wasn't going to understand it regardless. She reached out for one of the plants, running her fingers over it. Her nose already told her it was real, but her fingers confirmed it. "Growing indoors?"

"It's a mythical thing," said another voice. They appeared through the trees, where an open door broke the otherwise convincing illusion of a lush tropical environment indoors. The space beyond was more conventional—storage, an open servant's bedroom. Probably Eleanor's, judging by the number of suitcases inside. An ordinary servant didn't have that many possessions. "The shaymin sustain it. If one doesn't sleep here, it will wither."

The speaker appeared beside Eleanor. She wore strange clothes, not identifiable to Lyra as belonging to any fashion. Trousers cut just above her knees, with a sleeveless top that hugged her like it was wet. No seamstress or tailor in Victini House could make clothes look like that.

"Who's this, big sister? I didn't know you had friends in the basement."

Sister? The young woman was about the same age, maybe a little younger. Her daemon was completely unremarkable, a little brown eevee that stopped beside the ditto and greeted him with an affectionate nuzzle.

That only made the girl seem stranger by comparison. What young eevee would have brown ears mixed in with her brown hair, poking up from inside? Maybe the strange trousers were how she adapted to the fluffy fox tail.

"I didn't ask for any. But the headmistress insisted. She serves us in whatever we need, and we get to give her an example. Well, you do. Arceus knows I'm not the way any mythical wants their offspring to settle."

Eleanor's sister would mean another fa-lady. Apparently an eevee, though maybe not. She might not be what she appeared—another ditto?

She would never be so brave with a proper mythical. But Eleanor seemed fine. "There are no eevees where I'm from," Lyra said. Vel hopped down to the ground, where he could sniff at the stranger's daemon. "Have you thought about what you'll evolve into? I bet it's a lot of pressure to have so many choices."

The stranger giggled. "None of the servants at our house were this brave. I like her."

"She doesn't know who you are," Eleanor said, exasperated. "And she's an Oblate. They're always a little... strange."

"Oblate..." The eevee girl faced Lyra properly now, nudging at her shoulder. She wasn't that much older, or taller. Her strange clothes covered little, so there could be no collar hiding somewhere she didn't see. "What's an Oblate, Lyra?"

Eleanor's sister was probably another important servant—a mew girl would have a ton of those. But if she was gonna walk around barefoot in her weird underclothes, she obviously didn't care about mythical decorum. If she didn't care, why should Lyra? "They never called me that until I got here. But now they call me that all the time. Who are you?"

"Hayden." The eevee took her hand and shook. Her daemon did the same, pouncing Vel playfully to the dirt. Close enough for Vel to smell the strangeness of her. A girl with a female daemon? "And that's... Liz. Not as much of a handful as she looks, she's much worse."

"You wouldn't know what they are," Eleanor continued. Her voice was distant, sad. "Shaymin House never allowed them. We think the practice is a perversion of nature's intended course." She lowered her voice, muttering under her breath. Not meant for anyone else, but Lyra was close enough to overhear anyway. "Always had enough offspring that they didn't need any. No backup plans."

Backup plans?

But she didn't get to ask. Before she could reply, she was distracted by her daemon.

The little wrestling match had grown more interesting. Lyra's age meant Vel was smaller—but that wasn't the same as weaker. Collar or not, they could still change. So they did, first into another eevee, copying the stranger. But when that didn't work, Vel shifted into his usual furret shape, and suddenly he had the upper hand.

But the adult changed too. A quilava at first, just enough to be a little stronger than Vel. Then he became a buizel to deal with the heat, and the older girl changed too.

Lyra had a whole lifetime changing, but for the first time she had met her match. Her daemon changed again and again, as much a race with Hayden as a physical contest now.

Even without doing anything, Lyra felt breathless. But that was nothing compared to what the stranger must be going through. She shifted before Lyra's eyes, getting taller, smaller, older, younger—how could she do that so fast?

Faster than Lyra and Vel could, that was for sure. Soon enough they ran out of pokémon, or maybe just energy. Vel rolled onto his back as an oshawott, defeated. "You win," he breathed, exhausted. "I've never even... seen so many pokémon before."

"You have class tomorrow," Eleanor muttered. "Are you quite finished toying with my new assistant? It isn't her fault what house she was born to."

Hayden looked up. This was a very different Hayden—one with bright green hair mixed with real leaves. Liz was always one step ahead of Vel—every change a little bigger, or with an advantage against him. "Right. Class." She said it with heavy annoyance.

"You could go instead," she suggested, turning back to her sister. "Think about it? You're better at this mythical stuff than I am, anyway. Just turn into me, and sit in my seat. I can play servant."

“This whole plan was your idea!” Eleanor folded her arms. "Absolutely not. Even if I was capable, it would be a shortsighted plan. You asked the mew for this, now you have to live with it.”

"Wait, you have class?" Lyra finally asked. "I thought—"

The young woman changed again. She got smaller, but now her clothes fit correctly. Bright pink hair, a braid so long it trailed past her toes, and feline ears. The tail didn't drag, since Hayden wasn't on the ground anymore. She floated instead, bobbing up and down as though she were swimming. "Unfortunately. Are you going to tell me what an Oblate is before I sleep?"

"Everstone," Eleanor said. If Lyra wasn't utterly frozen in horror with what she'd just done, she would probably have said something about it. As it was, she barely even took a breath. Vel kept his head down, no longer even looking at the kitten in the air in front of him.

They had attacked a great lady. Arguably one of the most dangerous of all. Victini House could burn you alive—but at least you died as yourself. Mew powers were far mightier, when they chose to wield them.

"What's an Everstone?"

Eleanor reached to the side, holding Lyra's collar. Not to yank her around, just exposing it from under her dress again. "On this. Pokémon wearing it can't evolve, and they can't settle. That's kinda the same thing."

Hayden floated closer. Not with a wave of furious anger at the servant with the incomprehensible stupidity to attack her. She floated sideways, her tail trailing so long it wrapped around Lyra and back. "So they stay like this until they die?" she asked. "They get old like this?"

"Do you?" Eleanor asked. "You have to settle to grow up, everyone knows that. They don't. A long time ago, some of the great families tried filling their whole courts with people like her. Easier to get continuity when you aren't surrounded by regular people. You know what we're like, dying off as soon as you get to know us. A few seconds and we're gone."

The mew turned. "Don't be like that, sis. You know I..." She took the other servant by the wrist, and they floated upward. Right up into the tower, daemons and all.

Lyra waited there on the ground floor, surrounded by lush plants and a few tiny, skittering insects. But not her boss, or the great lady she'd been assigned to care for.

She waited almost a minute, with only the sound of falling water for company. Until her daemon changed back into a furret, and nudged her shoulder. "Didn't tell us we had to stay. Unless you wanna sleep here on the floor."

She didn't, and it didn't seem like that was even expected of them. They wouldn't be given their own bedroom down in the servant's quarters if they were supposed to stay here. It wasn't her fault if Eleanor didn't tell her what to do!

"I guess I'll... come back tomorrow morning?" she called into the tower. She waited a few more seconds, not really expecting a reply. But then one came—directly into her mind. Like Vel's voice, but not so clear, or intimate. She only recognized it since she had just heard it seconds earlier.

"Eleanor will get in touch. She's worked hard enough today. Get some sleep."

She's not mad that we fought?

That wasn't a reply, or even spoken. Hayden answered anyway. "If I wanted people to treat me like a fancy noble, I would look like one."

Lyra didn't stay to argue the point. The cat was in her head now, sending her thoughts like Vel. Better to get gone before she changed her mind.

She didn't run until she was out of the tower and into the basement. Then she broke into a sprint, with Vel scampering along on all fours beside her. "What kind of mythical acts like that, Lyra?"

The common room was almost deserted now, except for a single group of adults in one corner. She kept away from them, hurrying through the open door into the girls' wing.

She slowed as she approached her own room. The door beside hers was open, and light spilled out from within. She stepped inside. Hilda had several new uniforms on the bed in front of her, made of a shimmering fabric that caught the feeble bulb on the ceiling. "They can make clothes out of metal?"

Hilda spun in place. She held one of the servant's dresses up to her chest, grinning. "Victini House never gave me anything like this."

"Probably didn't want to burn us," Lyra said. She let herself in, surveying the bed. "Which house are you working for now?"

"Meltan," Hilda said. She gathered a few hangers from the closet, then took each dress carefully in turn. "Willow was right, they're not bad. What about yours?"

"Mew." She rested one hand on Vel's head. "Not that she told me right away. Thought she was another servant."

Her daemon changed into a little yellow spider, so small he could scamper up her arm, and hide their collective shame.

Hilda gasped. "Did she take away your memories? Transform you into something awful? Or..."

"Course not." Lyra rolled her eyes. "At least... not the first one. Pretty sure that second one is made up. But she was really good at transforming. Maybe that's why her handmaid is a ditto?"

Hilda stared at her from beside the closet. She took longer to recover than Lyra had when actually meeting her. "Sounds like a lot of pressure. Don't envy you one bit."

A lot less than I expected, actually. Lyra's new mistress worked for the strangest creature in the whole Academy. But if it meant fewer of those old, stupid rules... that would be nice.

She slipped back out, waving goodbye to her old friend. "Good luck with your student tomorrow."

Hilda giggled. "Don't think I'm the one who needs luck. Mine doesn't even eat. Not food, anyway." She shut the door, leaving Lyra and her daemon alone in the hall.

"Guess we find out what the mew wants tomorrow," Lyra said.

Vel nodded. "Maybe nothing. How are we supposed to clean her bedroom if it doesn't have stairs?"

They slept very little that night, whispering fearfully about what their next day would bring. No more running messages and sweeping floors. Whatever it was, she would probably have an interesting story to tell.